V. 


CALIFORNIA 

SAN  OtEGO 


<RY"\ 

ItY  Of' 
RN.A  I 


BY  WILLIAM  HENRY  DRUMMOND 


The  Voyageur,  and   Other   Poems. 

The  Habitant,  and  Other  French-Canadian 
Poems. 

Johnnie  Courteau,  and  Other  Poems. 

Phil-o-Rum's    Canoe  and  Madeleine  Ver- 
chers. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


'Poleon  !  hees  sojer  never  fight  more  brave 
as  dem  poor  habitants." 

From  De  Papineau  Gnn. 


HABITANT 

:::::::  AND 

OTHER    ERENCH- 
CANADIAN    POEMS 

of  Bv  William  Henry 
Drummond,  M.D.  a& 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

Louis  rrechette 

AND  WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

Frederick  Simpsorv  Coburri 


THIR  TY-FO  UR  TH  THO  USA  ND 


New  York  and  London 
0.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

1905 


COPYRIGHT  1897 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Set  up  and  electrotyped,  Nov.,  i8g7 

Reprinted,  Nov.,  1897  ;  Dec.  (twice),  1897  !  Ju'yi  »8g8  ;  Oct.,  1898  ;  Dec. 
(three  times),  1898;  March,  1899;  April,  1899;  Dec.,  1899;  Jan.,  1900; 
Nov.,  1900  ;  Aug.,  1901  ;  Oct.,  1901  ;  March,  1902  ;  June,  1902  ;  Jan.,  1903 ; 
Aug.,  1003;  Dec.,  1903;  July,  1904;  Nov.,  1904;  March,  1905 


ftntcfoerbocfcer  frees,  Hew 


TO  MY   DEAR  FRIEND  AND  FORMER  TEACHER 

GEORGE  MURRAY,  ESQ.,  B.A.,  A.K.C.,  F.R.S.C 

THESE  VERSES  ARE   DEDICATED  WITH    SINCERE 
ADMIRATION  AND  RESPECT 


INTRODUCTION 

ON  me  demande,  pour  ce  charmant  volume, 
un  mot  de  preface  en  francais ;  le  voici : 

Quand,  en  1863,  je  publiai  mon  premier  re- 
cueil  de  poesies  —  ecrites  au  college,  pour  la 
plupart, —  le  grand  poete  americain  Longfellow 
cut  la  flatteuse  bienveillance  de  m'appeler  The 
pathfinder  of  a  new  land  of  song. 

Avec  mille  fois  plus  de  raison  puis-je  aujourd'- 
hui  passer  le  compliment  a  mon  sympathique 
confrere  et  ami,  1'auteur  de  ce  livre;  car,  si 
jamais  quelqu'un,  chez  nous,  a  merite  le  titre  de 
pathfinder  of  a  neiv  land  of  song,  c'est  assur6- 
ment  lui. 

Non  seulement  il  a  decouvert  le  champ,  la 
clairiere,  la  vallee  fertile  et  encore  inexploree; 
il  en  a  fait  Fexploitation  a  sa  maniere,  avec  des 
outils  et  des  moyens  de  son  invention  ;  et,  fier 


vi  Introduction 

de  sa  conquete,  il  laisse,  de  son  epaule  robuste., 
tomber  a  nos  pieds  le  fruit  de  son  travail,  la 
gerbe  plantureuse  aux  ors  vierges,  a  1'arome 
sauvage,  aux  savoureuses  promesses,  toute 
fraiche  et  toute  crissante  dans  sa  rusticite 
saine. 

N'est-elle  pas,  en  effet,  d'une  originalite  peu 
commune,  1'idee  de  prendre  un  pauvre  illettre, 
de  le  presenter  comme  un  type  national  a  part, 
de  lui  mettre  aux  levres  une  langue  qui  n'est 
pas  la  sienne  et  qu'il  ne  connait  qu'  a  demi; 
d'en  faire  en  meme  temps  un  personnage  bon, 
doux,  aimable,  honnete,  intelligent  et  droit, 
1'esprit  en  eVeil,  le  cceur  plein  d'une  poesie 
native  stimulant  son  patriotisme,  jetant  un 
rayon  lumineux  dans  son  modeste  interieur, 
bergant  ses  heures  reveuses  de  souvenirs  loin- 
tains  et  melancoliques  ? 

Et  cela  sans  que  jamais,  dans  ce  portrait  d'un 
nouveau  genre,  le  plus  subtil  des  critiques 
puisse  surprendre  nulle  part  le  coup  de  crayon 
de  la  caricature ! 

Dans  ses  inimitables  contes  villageois,  George 
Sand  a  peint  les  paysans  du  Berry  sous  des  de- 
hors  tres  int^ressants.  Elle  nous  les  montre 


Introduction  vii 

meme  d'un  sentiment  tres  affind  dans  leur  sim- 
plicite  naive  et  leur  cordiale  bonhomie.  En 
somme,  elle  en  fait  des  natures,  des  tempera- 
ments, quelque  chose  de  typique,  en  meme 
temps  qu'  harmonieux  de  teinte  et  de  forme. 

Mais  George  Sand  faisait  parler  ses  person- 
nages  dans  la  langue  du  pays,  dans  la  langue  de 
la  chaumiere,  dans  leur  propre  dialecte,  enfin. 
Elle  n'avait,  pour  ainsi  dire,  qu'  a  faire  penetrer 
le  souffle  de  son  talent  sous  le  r£seau  de  la 
phrase,  pour  animer  celle-ci  d'un  reflet  de  ly- 
risme  ou  d'une  vibration  attendrie. 

La  tache  abordee  par  M.  Drummond  presen- 
tait  un  caractere  beaucoup  plus  difficile. 

Ici,  le  poete  avait  bien,  il  est  vrai,  le  milieu  a 
saisir,  place,  droit  en  face  de  son  objectif.  II 
£tait  assez  familier  avec  ses  acteurs  pour  les 
grouper  avantageusement,  en  menageant  les 
effets  d'ombres  et  de  lumiere.  II  est  naturelle- 
ment  assez  artiste  pour  ne  rien  negliger  de  ce 
qui  ajoute  du  pittoresque  a  la  pose;  surtout,  il 
connaissait  a  fond  le  type  a  reproduire,  ses 
mceurs,  ses  passions,  ses  sentiments,  ses  pen- 
chants, ses  superstitions  et  ses  faiblesses. 

Mais  comment,  sans  tomber  dans  la  charge 


viii  Introduction 

ou  la  bouffonnerie,  faire  parler  syste'matique- 
ment  a  ses  personnages  une  langue  etrangere, 
forc£ment  incorrecte  dans  la  bouche  de  quel- 
qu'un  qui  1'a  apprise  par  oreille,  sans  savoir  lire 
meme  dans  sa  propre  langue  ? 

La  tentative  etait  bardie;  mais  on  sait  que 
le  succes  a  un  faible  pour  les  audacieux. 

Dans  son  etude  des  Canadiens-frangais,  M. 
Drummond  a  trouv6  le  moyen  d'eViter  un 
£cueil  qui  aurait  semble  inevitable  pour  tout 
autre  que  pour  lui.  II  est  rest6  vrai,  sans  tom- 
ber  dans  la  vulgarit£,  et  piquant  sans  verser 
dans  le  grotesque. 

Qu'il  mette  en  scene  le  gros  fermier  fier  de 
son  bien  ou  de  ses  filles  a  marier,  le  vieux  m£- 
decin  de  campagne  ne  comptant  plus  ses  etats 
de  service,  le  jeune  amoureux  qui  reve  au  clair 
de  la  lune,  le  vieillard  qui  repasse  en  sa  me"- 
moire  la  longue  suite  des  jours  revolus,  le 
conteur  de  legendes,  1'aventurier  des  "  pays 
d'en  haut,"  et  meme  le  Canadien  exile  —  le 
Canadien  errant,  comme  dit  la  chanson  popu- 
laire  —  qui  croit  toujours  entendre  resonner  a 
son  oreille  le  vague  tintement  des  cloches  de 
son  village ;  que  le  r£cit  soit  plaisant  ou  path6- 


Introduction  ix 

tique,  jamais  la  note  ne  sonne  faux,  jamais  la 
bizarrerie  ne  degenere  en  puerilite  burlesque. 

C'est  Ik  un  tour  de  force  comme  il  ne  s'en  fait 
pas  souvent,  et  c'est  avec  enthousiasme  que  je 
tends  la  main  a  M.  Drummond  pour  le  feliciter 
de  1' avoir  accompli. 

II  a  veritablement  fait  la  oeuvre  de  poete  et 
d' artiste. 

J'ajouterai  qu'il  a  fait  aussi  oeuvre  de  bon 
citoyen.  Car  le  jour  sous  lequel  il  presente  mes 
compatriotes  illettres  ne  peut  manquer  de  valoir 
a  ceux-ci  —  et  partant  a  tout  le  reste  de  la  na- 
tionalite  —  un  accroissement  desirable  dans  1'es- 
time  de  nos  compatriotes  de  langue  anglaise, 
qui  n'ont  pas  ete  a  meme  de  les  etudier  d'aussi 
pres  que  M.  Drummond. 

La  peinture  qu'en  fait  le  poete  est  on  ne  peut 
plus  sympathique  et  juste;  et  de  semblables 
precedes  ne  peuvent  que  cimenter  1'union  de 
cceur  et  d'esprit  qui  doit  exister  entre  toutes 
les  fractions  qui  composent  la  grande  famille 
canadienne  appelee  a  vivre  et  a  prosp£rer  sous 
la  meme  loi  et  le  meme  drapeau. 

En  lisant  les  vers  de  M.  Drummond,  le  Ca- 
nadien-frangais  sent  que  c'est  la  1'expression 


x  Introduction 

d'une  ame  amie;  et,  a  ce  compte,  je  dois  a 
I'auteur  plus  que  mes  bravos,  je  lui  dois  en 
meme  temps  un  chaleureux  merci. 

Louis  FRECHETTE. 

MONTREAL,  13  octobre  1897. 


PREFACE 

IN  presenting  to  the  public  "  The  Habitant 
and  other  French-Canadian  Poems,"  I  feel 
that  my  friends  who  are  already,  more  or  less, 
familiar  with  the  work,  understand  that  I  have 
not  written  the  verses  as  examples  of  a  dialect, 
or  with  any  thought  of  ridicule. 

Having  lived,  practically,  all  my  life,  side  by 
side  with  the  French-Canadian  people,  I  have 
grown  to  admire  and  love  them,  and  I  have  felt 
that  while  many  of  the  English-speaking  public 
know  perhaps  as  well  as  myself  the  French- 
Canadian  of  the  cities,  yet  they  have  had  little 
opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
habitant,  therefore  I  have  endeavored  to  paint 
a  few  types,  and  in  doing  this,  it  has  seemed 
to  me  that  I  could  best  attain  the  object  in 
view  by  having  my  friends  tell  their  own  tales 
in  their  own  way,  as  they  would  relate  them 
to  English-speaking  auditors  not  conversant 
with  the  French  tongue. 

My  good  friend,  Dr.  Louis  Frechette,  Poet 


xii  Preface 

Laureate,  has  as  a  French-Canadian,  kindly 
written  an  "  Introductory  "  in  his  own  graceful 
language,  and  I  have  to  thank  him  above  all 
for  his  recognition  of  the  spirit  which  has  actu- 
ated me  in  writing  "  dialect  "  verse. 

To  Mr.  F.  S.  Coburn,  the  artist,  also,  I  am 
deeply  indebted  for  the  faithful  manner  in 
which  he  has  interpreted  the  different  charac- 
ters and  scenes  contained  in  this  volume.  All 
the  pictures  have  been  sketched  from  nature  or 
life,  and  the  keenest  critic  will  agree  with  me, 
that  Mr.  Coburn's  illustrations  are  most  typi- 
cal, both  of  the  people  and  the  soil. 

WILLIAM  HENRY  DRUMMOND. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

DE  HABITANT i 

THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "JULIE  PLANTS"          .  8 

LE  VIEUX  TEMPS n 

DE  PAPINEAU  GUN        .        .        .        .        .21 

How  BATEESE  CAME  HOME  ....  24 

DE  NICE  LEETLE  CANADIENNE      ...  34 

'POLEON  DOR£ 37 

DE  NOTAIRE  PUBLIQUE          ....  44 

MAXIME  LABELLE  ......  48 

MEMORIES 56 

PHIL-O-RUM  JUNEAU 60 

DE  BELL  OF  ST.  MICHEL        .         .         .         .71 

PELANG 74 

MON  CHOUAL  "  CASTOR"      ....  80 

OLE  TAM  ON  BORD-A  PLOUFFE      ...  85 

THE  GRAND  SEIGNEUR           ....  91 


xiv  Contents 

PAGE 

M'SIEU  SMIT'                   .  ,                       .        .  94 

WHEN  ALBANI  SANG      ...                 .  104 
DE  CAMP  ON  DE  "CHEVAL  GRIS"  .        .        .112 

DE  STOVE  PIPE  HOLE 118 

DE  SNOWBIRD 125 

THE  HABITANT'S  JUBILEE  ODE     .        .        .  128 

OLE  DOCTEUR  FISET     .        .        .        .        „  134 


THE  HABITANT 


DE  place  I  get  born,  me,  is  up  on  de  reever 
Near  foot  of  de  rapide  dat  's  call  Cheval 

Blanc 
Beeg  mountain  behin'   it,   so  high  you  can't 

climb  it 

An'   whole  place  she  's  mebbe  two  honder 
arpent. 

De  fader  of  me,  he  was  habitant  farmer, 
Ma  gran'  fader  too,  an'  hees  fader  also, 


2  The  Habitant 

Dey  don't  mak'  no  monee,  but  dat  is  n't  fonny 
For  it  's  not  easy  get  ev'ryt'ing,  you  mus' 
know — 

All  de  sam'  dere  is  somet'ing  dey  got  ev'ry- 

boddy, 
Dat's  plaintee  good  healt',  wat  de  monee 

can't  geev, 
So  I  'm  workin'  away  dere,  an'  happy  for  stay 

dere 
On  farm  by  de  reever,  so  long  I  was  leev. 

O!  dat  was  de  place  w'en  de  spring  tam  she  's 
comin', 

W'en  snow  go  away,  an'  de  sky  is  all  blue — 
W'en  ice  lef  de  water,  an'  sun  is  get  hotter 

An'  back  on  de  medder  is  sing  de  gou-glou — 

W'en  small  sheep  is  firs'   comin'  out  on  de 

pasture, 

Deir  nice  leetle  tail  stickin'  up  on  deir  back, 
Dey  ronne  wit'  deir  moder,  an'  play  wit'  each 

oder 

An'  jomp  all  de  tam  jus'  de  sam'  dey  was 
crack — 

An'  ole  cow  also,  she  's  glad  winter  is  over, 
So  she  kick  herse'f  up,  an'  start  off  on  de 
race 


The  Habitant  3 

Wit'  de  two-year-ole  heifer,  dat's  purty  soon 

lef  her, 
W'y  ev'ryt'ing's  crazee  all  over  de  place! 

An'  down  on  de  reever  de  wil'  duck  is  quackin' 
Along  by  de  shore  leetle  san'  piper  ronne — 

De  bullfrog  he  's  gr-rompin'  an'  dore"  is  jompin' 
Dey  all  got  deir  own  way  for  mak"  it  de 
fonne. 

But  spring  's  in  beeg  hurry,  an*  don't  stay  long 

wit'  us 
An'  firs'  t'ing  we  know,  she  go  off  till  nex' 

year, 
Den  bee  commence  hummin',  for  summer  is 

comin' 
An'  purty  soon  corn  's  gettin'  ripe  on  de  ear. 

Dat's  very  nice  tam  for  wake  up  on  de  morning 
An'  lissen  de  rossignol  sing  ev'ry  place, 

Feel  sout'  win'  a-blowin'  see  clover  a-growin' 
An*  all  de  worl'  laughin'  itself  on  de  face. 

Mos'  ev'ry  day  raf  it  is  pass  on  de  rapide 
De  voyageurs  singin'  some  ole  chanson 
'Bout  girl  down  de  reever — too  bad  dey  mus' 

leave  her, 
But  comin'  back  soon'  wit'  beaucoup  d'argent. 


4  The  Habitant 

An'  den  w'en  de  fall  an'  de  winter  come  roun 

us 

An'  bird  of  de  summer  is  all  fly  away, 
W'en  mebbe  she  's  snowin*  an'  nort'  win'  is 

blowin' 
An'  night  is  mos'  t'ree  tarn  so  long  as  de  day. 

You  t'ink  it  was  bodder  de  habitant  farmer  ? 

Not  at  all — he  is  happy  an'  feel  satisfy, 
An'  cole  may  las'  good  w'ile,  so  long  as  de 
wood-pile 

Is  ready  for  burn  on  de  stove  by  an'  bye. 

W'en  I  got  plaintee  hay  put  away  on  de  stable 
So  de  sheep  an1  de  cow,  dey  got  no  chance 

to  freeze, 
An'    de   hen   all   togedder — I    don't   min'    de 

wedder — 
De  nort'  win'  may  blow  jus'  so  moche  as  she 

please. 

An'  some  cole  winter  night  how  I  wish  you  can 

see  us, 
W'en  I  smoke  on  de  pipe,  an'  de  ole  woman 

sew 
By  de  stove  of  T'ree  Reever — ma  wife's  fader 

geev  her 
On  day  we  get  marry,  dat  's  long  tarn  ago — 


The  Habitant  5 

De  boy  an'  de  girl,  dey  was  readin'  it's  lesson, 

De  cat  on  de  corner  she  's  bite  heem  de  pup, 

Ole  "  Carleau  "  he  's  snorin'  an'  beeg  stove  is 

roarin' 

So  loud  dat  I  'm  scare  purty  soon  she  bus* 
up. 

Philomene — dat    's    de    oldes' — is    sit    on    de 

winder 

An'  kip  jus'  so  quiet  lak  wan  leetle  mouse, 
She  say  de  more  finer  moon  never  was  shiner — 
Very   fonny,   for  moon  is  n't   dat    side  de 
house. 

But  purty  soon  den,  we  hear  foot  on  de  outside, 
An'  some  wan  is  place  it  hees  han'  on  de 

latch, 

Dat  's  Isidore  Goulay,  las'  fall  on  de  Brule 
He  's  tak'  it  firs'  prize  on  de  grand  ploughin' 
match. 

Ha!  ha!  Philomene! — dat  was  smart  trick  you 

play  us 
Come  help  de  young  feller  tak'  snow  from 

hees  neck, 
Dere  's  not'ing  for  hinder  you   come    off  de 

winder 

Wen   moon  you   was  look  for    is    come,   I 
expec' — 


6  The  Habitant 

Isidore,  he  is  tole  us  de  news  on  de  parish 
'Bout  hees  Lajeunesse  Colt — travel  two  forty, 

sure, 
'Bout    Jeremie    Choquette,    come    back    from 

Woonsocket 

An'  t'ree  new  leetle  twin  on  Madame  Vail- 
lancour'. 

But    nine    o'clock   strike,    an'    de    chil'ren    is 

sleepy, 

Mese'f  an'  ok  woman  can't  stay  up  no  more 
So  alone  by  de  fire — 'cos  dey  say  dey  ain't 

tire — 
We  lef  Philomene  an'  de  young  Isidore. 

I  s'pose  dey  be  talkin'  beeg  lot  on  de  kitchen 
'Bout  all  de  nice  moon  dey  was  see  on  de 
sky, 

For  Philomene  's  takin'  long  tarn  get  awaken 
Nex'  day,  she  's  so  sleepy  on  bote  of  de  eye. 

Dat  's  wan  of  dem    ting's,   ev'ry  tarn  on  de 

fashion, 

An'  'bout  nices'  t'ing  dat  was  never  be  seen. 
Got  not'ing  for  say  me — I  spark  it  sam'  way 

me 
Wen  I  go  see  de  moder  ma  girl  Philomene. 


The  Habitant  7 

We  leev  very  quiet  'way  back  on  cle  contree 
Don't  put  on  sam  style  lak  de  big  village, 
Wen  we  don't  get  de  monee  you  t'ink  dat  is 

fonny 

An'  mak'  plaintee  sport  on  de  Bottes  Sau- 
vages. 

But  I  tole  you — dat  's  true — I  don't  go  on  de 

city 
If   you    geev   de    fine    house   an'   beaucoup 

d' argent — 

I  rader  be  stay  me,  an'  spen'  de  las'  day  me 
On    farm   by   de    rapide    dat  's  call   Cheval 
Blanc. 


-Jffi 


erre. 


ON  wan  dark  night  on  Lac  St.  Pierre, 
De  win'  she  blow,  blow,  blow, 
An'  de  crew  of  de  wood  scow  "  Julie  Plante  ' 

Got  scar't  an'  run  below  — 
For  de  win'  she  blow  lak  hurricane 

Bimeby  she  blow  some  more, 
An"  de  scow  bus'  up  on  Lac  St.  Pierre 
Wan  arpent  from  de  shore. 

De  captinne  walk  on  de  fronte  deck, 

An'  walk  de  hin'  deck  too  — 
He  call  de  crew  from  up  de  hole 

He  call  de  cook  also. 
De  cook  she  's  name  was  Rosie, 

She  come  from  Montreal, 


Wreck  of  the  "Julie  Plante"      9 

Was  chambre  maid  on  lumber  barge, 
On  de  Grande  Lachine  Canal. 

De  win'  she  blow  from  nor'-eas'-wes, ;  - 

De  sout'  win'  she  blow  too, 
Wen  Rosie  cry  "  Mon  cher  captinne, 

Mon  cher,  w'at  I  shall  do  ?  " 
Den  de  Captinne  t'row  de  big  ankerre, 

But  still  the  scow  she  dreef, 
De  crew  he  can't  pass  on  de  shore, 

Becos'  he  los'  hees  skeef. 

De  night  was  dark  lak'  wan  black  cat, 

De  wave  run  high  an'  fas', 
Wen  de  captinne  tak'  de  Rosie  girl 

An*  tie  her  to  de  mas'. 
Den  he  also  tak'  de  life  preserve, 

An'  jomp  off  on  de  lak', 
An'  say,  "  Good-bye,  ma  Rosie  dear, 

I  go  drown  for  your  sak'." 

Nex'  morning  very  early 

'Bout  ha'f-pas'  two — t'ree — four — 
De  captinne — scow — an'  de  poor  Rosie 

Was  corpses  on  de  shore, 
For  de  win'  she  blow  lak'  hurricane 

Bimeby  she  blow  some  more, 
An'  de  scow  bus'  up  on  Lac  St.  Pierre, 

Wan  arpent  from  de  shore. 


io  The  Habitant 

MORAL. 

Now  all  good  wood  scow  sailor  man 

Tak'  warning  by  dat  storm 
An'  go  an'  marry  some  nice  French  girl 

An'  leev  on  wan  beeg  farm. 
De  win'  can  blow  lak*  hurricane 

An'  s'pose  she  blow  some  more, 
You  can't  get  drown  on  Lac  St.  Pierre 

So  long  you  stay  on  shore. 


VENEZ  ici,  mon  cher  ami,  an'  sit  down  by 
me — so 

An'  I  will  tole  you  story  of  old  tarn  long  ago — 
Wen  ev'ryt'ing  is  happy — w'en  all  de  bird  is 

sing 

An'  me! — I  'm  young  an'  strong  lak  moose  an' 
not  afraid  no  t'ing. 


I  close  my  eye  jus'  so,  an'  see  de  place  w'ere 

I  am  born — 
I  close  my  ear  an'  lissen  to  musique  of  de  horn, 


i2  The  Habitant 

Dat  's  horn  ma  dear  ole  moder  blow — an  only 

t'ing  she  play 
Is    "  viens    done    vite    Napoleon — 'peche    toi 

pour  votre  souper. " — 

An'  w'en  he  's  hear  dat  nice  musique — ma 
leetle  dog  "  Carleau  " 

Is  place  hees  tail  upon  hees  back — an'  den 
he  's  let  heem  go — 

He  's  jomp  on  fence — he  's  swimmin'  crik — 
he  's  ronne  two  forty  gait, 

He  say  "  dat  's  somet'ing  good  for  eat — Car- 
leau mus'  not  be  late." 


O  dem  was  pleasure  day  for  sure,  dem  day  of 

long  ago 
W'en  I  was  play  wit'  all  de  boy,  an'  all  de  girl 

also; 
An'  many  tam  w'en  I  'm  alone  an'  t'ink  of  day 

gone  by 
An'  pull  latire  an'  spark  de  girl,  I  cry  upon  my 

eye. 

Ma  fader  an'   ma  moder   too,   got    nice,  nice 

familee, 
Dat  's  ten  garc_on  an'  t'orteen  girl,  was  mak'  it 

twenty  t'ree 


Le  Vieux  Temps  13 

But  fonny  t'ing  de  Gouvernement  don't  geev 

de  firs'  prize  den 
Lak  w'at  dey  say  dey  geev  it  now,  for  only 

wan  douzaine. 


De   English  peep  dat  only   got   wan   familee 

small  size 
Mus'  be  feel  glad  dat  tarn  dere  is  no  bonder 

acre  prize 
For  fader  of  twelve  chil'ren — dey  know  dat 

mus'  be  so, 
De    Canayens    would    boss     Kebeck — mebbe 

Ontario. 


But   dat   is  not  de  story  dat  I  was  gone  tole 

you 
About  de  fun  we  use  to  have  w'en  we  leev  a 

chez  nous 
We  're  never  lonesome  on  dat  house,  for  many 

cavalier 
Come  at  our  place  mos'  every  night — especially 

Sun-day. 

But  tarn  I  'member  bes'  is  w'en  I  'm  twenty 

wan  year — me — 
An'  so  for  mak'  some  pleasurement — we  geev 

wan  large  soiree 


14  The  Habitant 

De  whole  paroisse  she  be  invite — de  Cur6  he  's 

come  too — 
Wit  plaintee  peep  from  'noder  place — dat  's 

more  I  can  tole  you. 

De  night  she  's  cole  an'  freeze  also,  chemin 

she  's  fill  wit  snow 
An'  on  de  chimley  lak  phantome,  de  win'  is 

mak'  it  blow — 
But  boy  an'  girl  come  all  de  sam  an'  pass  on 

grande  parloir 
For  warm  itself  on  beeg  box  stove,  was  mak' 

on  Trois  Rivieres — 

An'  w'en  Bonhomme   Latour   commence   for 

tune  up  hees  fidelle 
It  mak'  us  all  feel  very  glad — 1'enfant!  he  play 

so  well, 
Musique  suppose  to  be  firs'  class,  I  offen  hear, 

for  sure 
But   mos'  bes'   man,   beat  all  de  res',  is  ole 

Bateese  Latour — 


An'  w'en  Bateese  play  Irish  jeeg,  he  's  learn 

on  Mattawa 
Dat  tarn  .he  's  head  boss  cook  Shaintee — den 

leetle  Joe  Leblanc 


Le  Vieux  Temps  15 

Tak'  hole  de  beeg  Marie  Juneau  an'  dance  upon 

de  floor 
Till  Marie  say  "  Excuse  to  me,  I  cannot  dance 

no  more." — 


An'  den  de  Cure  's  mak'  de  speech — ole  Cure 

Ladouceur! 
He  say  de  girl  was  spark  de  boy  too  much  on 

some  cornerre — 
An'  so  he  's  tole  Bateese  play  up  ole  fashion 

reel  a  quatre 
An'  every  body  she  mus'  dance,  dey  can't  get 

off  on  dat. 


Away   she    go — hooraw!    hooraw!    plus    fort 

Bateese,  mon  vieux 
Camilla  Bisson,  please  watch  your  girl — dat  's 

bes'  t'ing  you  can  do. 
Pass  on  de  right  an'  tak'  your  place  Mamzelle 

Des  Trois  Maisons 
You  're  s'pose  for  dance  on  Paul  Laberge,  not 

Telesphore  Gagnorr. 

Mon  oncle  Al-fred,  he  spik  lak'  dat — 'cos  he  is 

boss  de  floor, 
An'  so  we  do  our  possibill  an'  den  commence 

encore. 


1 6  The  Habitant 

Dem  crowd  of  boy  an'  girl  I'm  sure  keep  up 

until  nex'  day 
If  ole  Bateese  don't  stop  heseff,  he  come  so 

fatigued 


An'  affer  dat,  we  eat  some  t'ing,   tak*  leetle 

drink  also 
An'   de  Cur£,   he  's  tole  story  of  many  year 

ago— 
Wen  Iroquois  sauvage  she  's  keel  de  Canayens 

an'  steal  deir  hair, 
An'  say  dat  's  only  for  Bon  Dieu,  we  don't  be 

here — he  don't  be  dere. 


But  dat  was  mak'  de  girl  feel  scare — so  all  de 

cavalier 
Was  ax  hees  girl  go  home  right  off,  an'  place 

her  on  de  sleigh, 
An'  w'en  dey  start,  de  Cure  say,  "  Bonsoir  et 

bon  voyage 
Menagez-vous — tak'     care      for    you — prenez- 

garde  pour  les  sauvages. " 

An'  den  I  go  meseff  also,  an*  tak'  ma  belle 

Elmire — 
She  's  nicer  girl  on  whole  Comte,  an'  jus'  got 

eighteen  year — 


Le  Vieux  Temps  17 

Black  hair — black  eye,  an'  chick  ros£e  dat  's  lak 

wan  fameuse  on  de  fall 
But  don't  spik  much — not  of  dat  kin',  I  can't 

say  she  love  me  at  all. 


Ma  girl  —  she's  fader  beeg  farmeur  —  leev  'noder 

side  St.  Flore 
Got    five-six    honder    acre  —  mebbe     a    leetle 

more  — 
Nice  sugar  bush  —  une  belle  maison  —  de  bes'  I 

never  see  — 
So  w'en  I  go  for  spark  Elmire,  I  don't  be  mak* 

de  foolish  me  — 


Elmire!  —  she  's  pass  t'ree  year  on  school  —  Ste. 

Anne  de  la  Perade 
An'  w'en  she  's  tak'  de  firs'  class  prize,  dat  's 

mak'  de  ole  man  glad  ; 
He  say  "  Ba  gosh  —  ma  girl  can  wash  —  can  keep 

de  kitchen  clean 
Den  change  her  dress  —  mak'  politesse  before 

God  save  de  Queen." 

Dey  's  many  way  for  spark  de  girl,  an'  you 

know  dat  of  course, 
Some  way  dey  might  be  better  way,  an'  some 

dey  might  be  worse 


i8  The  Habitant 

But  I  lak'  sit  some  cole  night  wit'  my  girl  on 

ole  burleau 
Wit'    lot    of    hay    keep    our   foot   warm — an1 

plaintee  buffalo — 

Dat  's  geev  good  chances  get  acquaint — an'  if 

burleau  upset 
An'  t'row  you  out  upon  de  snow — dat  's  better 

chances  yet — 
An'  if  you  help  de  girl  go  home,  if  horse  he 

ronne  away 
De  girl  she  's  not  much  use  at  all — don't  geev 

you  nice  baiser! 

Dat  's  very  well  for  fun  ma  frien',  but  w'en 

you  spark  for  keep 
She  's  not  sam  t'ing  an'  mak'  you  feel  so  scare 

lak'  leetle  sheep 
Some  tam  you  get  de  fever — some  tarn  you  're 

lak  snowball 
An'  all  de  tam  you  ack  lak'  fou — can't  spik  no 

t'ing  at  all. 

Wall!  dat  's  de  way  I  feel  meseff,  wit  Elmire 

on  burleau, 
Jus'  lak'  small  dog  try  ketch  hees  tail — roun 

roun'  ma  head  she  go 


Le  Vieux  Temps  19 

But  bimeby  I  come  more  brave — an'  tak'  El- 
mire  she's  ban' 

"  Laisse-moi  tranquille  "  Elmire  she  say"  You 
mus'  be  crazy  man." 

'  Yass — yass  I  say  "  mebbe  you  t'ink  I  'm  wan 

beeg  loup  garou, 
Dat  's  forty  t'ousand  'noder  girl,  I  lef  dem  all 

for  you, 
I  s'pose  you  know  Polique  Gauthier  your  frien' 

on  St.  Cesaire 

I  ax  her  marry  me  nex'  wick — she  tak'  me — I 
don't  care." 


Ba  gosh ;    Elmire  she   don't  lak  dat — it  mak' 

her  feel  so  mad — 
She  commence  cry,  say  "  'Poleon  you  treat  me 

very  bad — 
I  don't  lak  see  you  t'row  you'seff  upon  Polique 

Gauthier, 
So  if  you  say  you  love  me  sure — we  mak'  de 

mariee." — 


Oh  it  was  fine  tarn  affer  dat — Castor  I  t'ink  he 

know, 
We  're  not  too  busy  for  get  home — he  go  so 

nice  an'  slow, 


20  The  Habitant 

He   's  only   upset   t'ree — four   tarn — an'   jus 

about  daylight 
We  pass  upon  de  ole  man's  place — an'  every 

t'ing  's  all  right. 

Wall!   we  leev  happy  on  de  farm  for  nearly 

fifty  year, 
Till  wan  day  on  de  summer  tarn — she  die — ma 

belle  Elmire 
I  feel  so  lonesome  lef  behin' — I  tink  't  was 

bes'  mebbe — 
Dat  w'en  le   Bon    Dieu  tak'   ma  famme — he 

should  not  forget  me. 

But  dat  is  hees  biz-nesse  ma  frien' — I  know 

dat  's  all  right  dere 
I  '11  wait  till  he  call  "Toleon  "  den  I  will  be 

prepare — 
An*  w'en  he  fin'  me  ready,  for  mak'  de  longue 

voyage 
He  guide  me  t'roo  de  wood  hesef  upon  ma  las' 

portage. 


"  DE    PAPINEAU    GUN." 

AN   INCIDENT   OF   THE   CANADIAN    REBELLION 
OF   1837. 

BON  jour,  M'sieu' — you  want  to  know 
'Bout  dat  ole  gun — w'at  good  she  's  for  ? 
W'y!  Jean  Bateese  Bruneau — mon  pere, 
Fight  wit'  dat  gun  on  Pap'neau  War! 

Long  tarn  since  den  you  say — C'est  vrai, 
An'  me  too  young  for  'member  well, 

But  how  de  patriot  fight  an'  die, 
I  offen  hear  de  ole  folk  tell. 

De  English  don't  ack  square  dat  tam, 
Don't  geev  de  habitants  no  show, 

So  'long  come  Wolfred  Nelson 
Wit'  Louis  Joseph  Papineau. 

An'  swear  de  peep  mus'  have  deir  right, 

Wolfred  he  's  write  Victoriaw, 
But  she  's  no  good,  so  den  de  war 

Commence  among  de  habitants. 

21 


22  The  Habitant 

Mon  pere  he  leev  to  Grande  Brule 
So  smarter  man  you  never  see, 

Was  alway  on  de  grande  hooraw ! 
Plaintee  w'at  you  call  "  Esprit!  " 

An'  w'en  dey  form  wan  compagnie 
All  dress  wit'  tuque  an'  ceinture  sash, 

Ma  fader  tak'  hees  gun  wit'  heem 
An'  marche  away  to  Saint  Eustache, 

Were  many  patriots  was  camp 

Wit'  brave  Chenier,  deir  Capitaine, 

W'en  'long  come  English  Generale, 
An'  more  two  t'ousan'  sojer  man. 

De  patriot  dey  go  on  church 

An*  feex  her  up  deir  possibill; 
Dey  fight  deir  bes',  but  soon  fin'  out 
Canon  de  bois  "  no  good  for  kill. 

An'  den  de  church  she  come  on  fire, 
An'  burn  almos'  down  to  de  groun', 

So  w'at  you  t'ink  our  man  can  do 
Wit'  all  dem  English  armee  roun'  ? 

'Poleon,  hees  sojer  never  fight 

More  brave  as  dem  poor  habitants, 

Chenier,  he  try  for  broke  de  rank 
Chenier  come  dead  immediatement. 


"De  Papineau  Gun"  23 

He  fall  near  w'ere  de  cross  is  stan* 

Upon  de  ole  church  cimitiere, 
Wit'  Jean  Poulin  an'  Laframboise 

An'  plaintee  more  young  feller  dere. 

De  gun  dey  rattle  lak'  tonnere 

Jus'  bang,  bang,  bang!  dat  's  way  she  go, 
An'  wan  by  wan  de  brave  man  's  fall 

An'  red  blood  's  cover  all  de  snow. 

Ma  fader  shoot  so  long  he  can 

An'  den  he  's  load  hees  gun  some  more, 
Jomp  on  de  ice  behin'  de  church 

An'  pass  heem  on  de  'noder  shore. 

Wall !  he  reach  home  fore  very  long 

An'  keep  perdu  for  many  day, 
Till  ev'ry  t'ing  she  come  tranquille, 

An'  sojer  man  all  gone  away. 

An'  affer  dat  we  get  our  right, 
De  Canayens  don't  fight  no  more, 

Ma  fader's  never  shoot  dat  gun, 
But  place  her  up  above  de  door. 

An'  Papineau,  an'  Nelson  too 

Dey  're  gone  long  tarn,  but  we  are  free, 
Le  Bon  Dieu  have  'em  'way  up  dere. 

Salut,  Wolfred!     Salut,  Louis! 


now 

BATCE5C 
CAME 

nOME  isfcgyj 


W'EN  I  was  young  boy  on  de  farm,  dat  's 
twenty  year  ago 
I  have  wan  frien'  he  's  leev  near  me,  call  Jean 

Bateese  Trudeau 
An  often  w'en  we  are  alone,  we  lak  for  spik 

about 

De  tarn  w'en  we  was   come   beeg   man,    wit' 
moustache  on  our  mout'. 

Bateese  is  get  it  on  hees  head,  he  's  too  moche 

educate 
For  mak'  de  habitant  farmerre — he  better  go 

on  State — 


24 


How  Bateese  Came  Home      25 

An'   so  wan  summer  evening  we   're   drivin' 

home  de  cow 
He  's  tole  me  all  de  whole  beez-nesse — jus'  lak 

you  hear  me  now. 

'  Wat  's  use  mak'  foolish  on  de  farm  ?  dere  's 

no  good  chances  lef 
An'  all  de  tarn  you  be  poor  man — you  know 

dat  's  true  you'se'f ; 
We  never  get  no  fun  at  all — don't  never  go  on 

spree 
Onless  we  pass  on  'noder  place,  an1   mak'   it 

some  monee. 

I  go  on  Les  Etats  Unis,  I  go  dere  right  away 
An'  den  mebbe  on  ten-twelve  year,  I  be  riche 

man  some  day, 
An'  w'en  I  mak'  de  large  fortune,  I  come  back 

I  s'pose 
Wit'   Yankee    famme    from    off  de  State,   an' 

monee  on  my  clothes. 

I   tole  you   somet'ing  else  also — mon   cher 

Napoleon 

I  get  de  grande  majorite,  for  go  on  parliament 
Den  buil'  fine  house  on  borde  1'eau — near  w'ere 

de  church  is  stand 
More  finer  dan  de  Presbytere,  w'en  I  am  come 

riche  man!  " 


26  The  Habitant 

I  say  "  For  w'at  you  spik  lak  dat  ?  you  must 

be  gone  crazee 
Dere    's    plaintee    feller    on    de    State,    more 

smarter  dan  you  be, 
Beside  she  's  not  so  healtee  place,  an'  if  you 

mak'  1'argent, 
You  spen'  it  jus'  lak  Yankee  man,  an'  not  lak 

habitant. 

"  For  me  Bateese!    I  tole  you  dis:   I  'm  very 

satisfy — 
De  bes'  man  don't  leev  too  long  tarn,  some 

day  Ba  Gosh !  he  die — 
An'  s'pose  you  got  good  trotter  horse,  an'  nice 

famme  Canadienne 
Wit'  plaintee  on  de  house  for  eat — W'at  more 

you  want  ma  frien'  ?  " 


But  Bateese  have  it  all  mak'  up,  I  can't  stop 

him  at  all 
He  's  buy  de  secondc  classe  tiquettc,  for  go  on 

Central  Fall — 
An'  wit'  two-t'ree  some  more  de  boy, — w'at 

t'ink  de  sam'  he  do 
Pass  on  de  train  de  very  nex'  wick,  was  lef 

Riviere  du  Loup. 


How  Bateese  Came  Home      27 

Wall !  mebbe  fifteen  year  or  more,  since  Bateese 

go  away 
I  fin'  mesef  Riviere  du  Loup,  wan   cole,  cole 

winter  day 
De  quick  express  she  come  hooraw !  but  stop 

de  soon  she  can 
An'  beeg  swell  feller  jomp  off  car,  dat  's  boss 

by  nigger  man. 


He  's  dressim  on  de  premiere  classe,  an*  got 

new  suit  of  clothes 
Wit'   long  moustache  dat   's  stickim  out,   de 

'noder  side  hees  nose 
Fine  gol'  watch  chain — nice  portmanteau — an' 

long,  long  overcoat 
Wit'  beaver  hat — dat  's  Yankee  style — an'  red 

tie  on  hees  t'roat — 


I  say"  Hello  Bateese!  Hello!  Comment  c,a  va 

mon  vieux  ?  " 
He  say  "  Excuse  to  me,  ma  frien'   I  t'ink  I 

don't  know  you." 
I  say,  "  She  's  very  curis  t'ing,  you  are  Bateese 

Trudeau, 
Was  raise  on  jus'  sam'  place  wit'  me,  dat  's 

fifteen  year  ago  ?  " 


28  The  Habitant 

He  say,  "  Oh  yass  dat  's  sure  enough — I  know 

you  now  firs'  rate, 
But  I  forget  mos'  all  ma  French  since  I  go  on 

de  State. 
Dere  's  'noder  t'ing  kip  on  your  head,  ma  frien' 

dey  mus'  be  tole 
Ma  name   's   Bateese  Trudeau   no  more,   but 

John  B.  Waterhole!  " 


1  Hole  on  de  water  's  "  fonny  name  for  man 

w'at  's  call  Trudeau 
Ma  frien's  dey  all  was  spik  lak  dat,  an"  I  am 

tole  heem  so — 
He  say  "  Trudeau  an'  Waterhole  she  's  jus' 

about  de  sam' 
An'  if  you  go  for  leev  on  State,  you  must  have 

Yankee  nam'." 


Den  we  invite  heem  come  wit'  us,  "  Hotel  du 

Canadaw  " 
Were  he  was  treat  mos'  ev'ry  tarn,  but  can't 

tak'  w'isky  blanc, 
He  say  dat  's  leetle  strong  for  man  jus'  come 

off  Central  Fall 
An'   "  tabac  Canayen  "   bedamme!    he  won't 

smoke  dat  at  all!-- 


How  Bateese  Came  Home      29 

But  fancy  drink  lak  "  Ceilings  John  "  de  way 

he  put  it  down 
Was  long  tarn  since  I  don't  see  dat — I  t'ink 

he  's  goin'  drown! — 
An'  fine  cigar  cos'  five  cent  each,  an'  mak'  on 

Trois-Rivieres 
L'enfant!    he   smoke   beeg   pile  of   dem — for 

monee  he  don't  care! — 


I  s'pose  meseff  it  's  t'ree  o'clock  w'en  we  are 

t'roo  dat  night 
Bateese,   hees  fader  come  for  heem,  an'  tak' 

heem  home  all  right 
De  ole  man  say  Bateese  spik  French,  w'en  he 

is  place  on  bed — 
An'  say  bad  word — but  w'en  he  wake — forget 

it  on  hees  head — 

Wall !  all  dc  winter  w'en  we  have  soiree  dat  's 

grande  affaire 
Bateese  Trudeau,  dit  Waterhole,  he  be  de  boss 

man  dere — 
You  bet  he  have  beeg  tarn,  bvt  w'en  de  spring 

is  come  encore 
He  's  buy  de  premiere  classe  tiquette  for  go  on 

State  some  more. 


30  The  Habitant 

You  'member  w'en  de  hard  tarn  come  on  Les 

Etats  Unis 
An'  plaintee  Canayens  go  back  for  stay  deir 

own  con  tree  ? 
Wall!  jus'  about  'dat  tam  again  I  go  Riviere 

du  Loup 
For  sole  me  two  t'ree  load  of  hay — mak'  leetle 

visit  too — 


De  freight  train   she  is  jus'  arrive — only  ten 

hour  delay — 
She  's  never  carry  passengaire — dat  's  w'at  dey 

always  say — 
I  see  poor  man  on   char  caboose — he   's  got 

heem  small  valise 
Begosh !    I    nearly    tak'    de    fit, — It    is — it    is 

Bateese ! 


He  know  me  very  well  dis  tam,  an'  say  "Bon 

jour,  mon  vieux 
I  hope  you  know  Bateese  Trudeau  was  educate 

wit'  you 
I  'm  jus'  come  off  de  State  to  see  ma  familee 

encore 
I  bus'  mesef  on  Central  Fall — I  don't  go  dere 

no  more." 


How  Bateese  Came  Home      31 

"  I  got  no  monee — not  at  all — I  'm  broke  it  up 

for  sure — 
Dat   's  locky   t'ing,    Napoleon,   de  brakeman 

Joe  Latour 
He  's  cousin  of  wan  frien'  of  me  call  Camille 

Valiquette, 
Conductor  too  's  good  Canayen — don't  ax  me 

no  tiquette. " 


I  tak'  Bateese  wit'  me  once  more  "  Hotel  du 

Canadaw  " 
An'  he  was  glad  for  get  de  chance  drink  some 

good  w'isky  blanc! 
Dat  's  warm  heem   up,   an   den   he  eat  mos' 

ev'ryt'ing  he  see, 
I  watch  de  w'ole  beez-nesse  mese'f — Monjee! 

he  was  hongree ! 


Madame  Charette  wat  's  kip  de  place  get  very 

much  excite 
For  see  de  many  pork  an'  bean  Bateese  put  out 

of  sight 
Du  pain  dore — potate  pie — an'  'noder  t'ing  be 

dere 
But  w'en  Bateese  is  get  heem  t'roo — dey  go  I 

don't  know  w'ere. 


32  The  Habitant 

It  don't  tak*  long  for  tole  de  news  "  Bateese 
come  off  de  State  " 

An*  purty  soon  we  have  beeg  crowd,  lak  vil- 
lage she  's  en  fete 

Bonhomme  Maxime  Trudeau  hese'f,  he  's 
comin'  wit'  de  pries' 

An'  pass'  heem  on  de  "  Room  for  eat  "  w'ere 
he  is  see  Bateese. 


Den  ev'rybody  feel  it  glad,  for  watch  de  em- 

brasser 
An'   bimeby  de  ole  man  spik  "  Bateese  you 

here  for  stay  ?  " 
Bateese  he  's  cry  lak   beeg  bebe,  "  Ba  j'eux 

rester  ici. 
An  if  I  never  see  de  State,  I  'm  sure  I  don't 

care — me." 


v  Correc',"  Maxime  is  say  right  off,  "  I  place 

you  on  de  farm 
For  help  your  poor  ole  fader,  won't  do  you  too 

moche  harm 
Please  come  wit'  me  on  Magasin,  I  feex  you 

up — ba  oui 
An'  den  you  're  ready  for  go  home  an'  see  de 

familee. " 


How  Bateese  Came  Home      33 

Wall!  w'en  de  ole  man  an'  Bateese  come  off  de 
Magasin 

Bateese  is  los'  hees  Yankee  clothes — he  's  dress 
lak  Canayen 

Wit'  bottes  sauvages —  ceinture  flech£  —  an' 
coat  wit'  capuchon 

An'  spik  Frangais  au  naturel,  de  sam'  as  habi- 
tant. 


I  see  Bateese  r.e  oder  day,  he  's  work  hees 
fader's  place 

I  t'ink  mese'f  he  's  satisfy — I  see  dat  on  hees 
face 

He  say  "  I  got  no  use  for  State,  mon  cher  Na- 
poleon 

Kebeck  she  's  good  enough  for  me — Hooi  «.w 
pour  Canadavv. " 


DE 

NICE  LEETLE 
CANADIENNE 


YOU  can  pass  on  de  worF  w'erever  you  lak, 
Tak'  de  steamboat  for  go  Angleterre, 
Tak'  car  on  de  State,  an'  den  you  come  back, 

An'  go  all  de  place,  I  don't  care — 
Ma  frien'  dat  's  a  fack,  I  know  you  will  say, 

Wen  you  come  on  dis  contree  again, 
Dere  's  no  girl  can  touch,  w'at  we  see  ev'ry  day, 
De  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 


Don't  matter  how  poor  dat  girl  she  may  be, 
Her  dress  is  so  neat  an'  so  clean, 

Mos'  ev'rywan  t'ink  it  was  mak'  on  Paree 
An'  she  wear  it,  wall!  jus'  lak  de  Queen. 

34 


De  Nice  Leetle  Canadienne     35 

Den  come  for  fin'  out  she  is  mak'  it  herse'f, 
For  she  ain't  got  moche  monee  for  spen', 
But  all  de  sam'  tarn,  she  was  never  get  lef, 
Dat  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

Wen  "  un  vrai  Canayen  "  is  mak'  it  marine, 

You  t'ink  he  go  leev  on  beeg  flat 
An'  bodder  hese'f  all  de  tarn,  night  an'  day, 

Wit'  housemaid,  an'  cook,  an'  all  dat  ? 
Not  moche,  ma  dear  frien',  he  tak'  de  maison, 

Cos'  only  nine  dollar  or  ten, 
Were  he  leev  lak  blood  rooster,  an'  save  de 
1'argent, 

Wit'  hees  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

I  marry  ma  famme  w'en  I  'm  jus'  twenty  year, 

An'  now  we  got  fine  familee, 
Dat  skip  roun'  de  place  lak  leetle  small  deer, 

No  smarter  crowd  you  never  see — 
An'  I  t'ink  as  I  watch  dem  all  chasin'  about, 

Four  boy  an'  six  girl,  she  mak'  ten, 
Dat  's  help  mebbe  kip  it,  de  stock  from  run  out 
Of  de  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

O  she  's  quick  an'  she  's  smart,  an'  got  plain 
tee  heart, 

If  you  know  correc'  way  go  about, 
An'  if  you  don't  know,  she  soon  tole  you  so 

Den  tak'  de  firs'  chance  an'  get  out; 


36  The  Habitant 

But  if  she  love  you,  I  spik  it  for  true, 
She  will  mak'  it  more  beautiful  den, 
An*  sun  on  de  sky  can't  shine  lak  de  eye 
Of  dat  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 


TOLEON    DOR£. 

A  TALE   OF   THE   SAINT   MAURICE. 

YOU  have  never  hear  de  story  of  de  young 
Napoleon  Dore  ? 
Los'  hees  life  upon  de  reever  w'en  de  lumber 

drive  go  down  ? 
Were  de  rapide  roar  lak  tender,  dat  's  de  place 

he  's  goin'  onder, 

W'en  he  's  try  save  Paul  Desjardins,  'Poleon 
hese'f  is  drown. 


All  de  winter  on  de  Shaintee,  tarn  she  's  good. 

and  work  she  's  p'aintee, 
But  we  're  not  feel  very  sorry,  w'en  de  sun 

is  warm  hees  face, 
W'en  de  mooshrat  an'  de  beaver,  tak'  some 

leetle  swim  on  reever, 

An'  de  sout'  win'  scare  de  snowbird,  so  she 
fly  some  col'er  place. 

37 


38  The  Habitant 

Den  de  spring  is  set  in  steady,  an'  we  get  de 

log  all  ready, 
Workin'  hard  all  day  an'  night  too,  on  de 

water  mos'  de  tarn, 
An'  de  skeeter  w'en  dey  fin'  us,  come  so  quickly 

nearly  blin'  us, 

Biz — biz — biz — biz — all  aroun'  us  till  we  feel 
lak  sacredam. 


All  de  sam'  we  're  hooraw  feller,  from  de  top 

of  house  to  cellar, 
Ev'ry  boy  he  's  feel  so  happy,  w'en  he  's 

goin'  right  away, 
See  hees  fader  an'  hees  moder,  see  hees  sister 

an'  hees  broder, 

An'  de  girl  he  spark  las'  summer,  if  she  's 
not  get  mariee. 


Wall  we  start  heem  out  wan  morning,  an'  de 

pilot  geev  us  warning, 
W'en  you   come   on    Rapide   Cuisse,    ma 

frien',  keep  raf  she's  head  on  shore, 
If  you  struck  beeg  rock  on  middle,  w'ere  le 

diable  is  play  hees  fiddle, 
Dat  's  de  tarn  you  pass  on  some  place,  you 
don't  never  pass  before." 


Toleon  Dore  39 

But  we  '11  not  t'ink  mochc  of  danger,  for  de 

rapide  she  's  no  stranger 
Many  tarn  we  're  runnin'  t'roo  it,  on.  de  fall 

an'  on  de  spring, 
On  mos'  ev'ry  kin'  of  wedder  dat  le  Bon  Dieu 

scrape  togedder, 

An'  we  '11  never  drown  noboddy,  an'  we  '11 
never  bus'  somet'ing. 


Dere  was  Telesphore  Montbriand,  Paul  Desjar- 

dins,  Louis  Guyon, 
Bill    McKeever,    Aleck    Gauthier,  an'    hees 

cousin  Jean  Bateese, 
'Poleon  Dor£,  Aime  Beaulieu,  wit'  some  more 

man  I  can't  tole  you, 

Dat  was  mak'  it  bes'  gang  never  run  upon  de 
St.  Maurice. 


Dis  is  jus'  de  tain  I  wish  me,  I  could  spik  de 

good  English — me — 
For  tole  you  of  de  pleasurement  we  get  upon 

de  spring, 
Wen  de  win'  she  's  all  a  sleepin',  an'  de  raf 

she  go  a  sweepin' 

Down  de  reever  on  some  morning,  w'ile  le 
rossignol  is  sing. 


40  The  Habitant 

Ev'iyt'ing  so  nice  an'  quiet  on  de  shore  as  we 

pass  by  it, 
All  de  tree  got  fine  new  spring  suit,  ev'ry 

wan  she's  dress  on  green 
W'y  it  mak'  us  all  more  younger,  an'  we  don't 

feel  any  hunger, 

Till  de  cook  say  "  'Raw  for  breakfas',"  den 
we  smell  de  pork  an'  bean. 


Some  folk  say  she  's  bad  for  leever,  but  for  man 

worfc  hard  on  reever, 
Dat  's  de  bes'  t'ing  I  can  tole  you,  dat  was 

never  yet  be  seen, 
Course  dere  's  oder  t'ing  ah  tak'  me,  fancy  dish 

also  I  lak  me, 

But  w'en  I  want  somet'ing  solid,  please  pass 
me  de  pork  an'  bean. 


All  dis  tam  de  raf  she  's  goin'  lak  steamboat 

was  got  us  towin' 
All  we  do  is  keep  de  channel,  an'  dat  's  easy 

workin'  dere, 
So  we  sing  some  song  an'  chorus,  for  de  good 

tam  dat  's  before  us, 

W'en  de  w'ole  beez-nesse  she  's  finish,  an' 
we  come  on  Trois  Rivieres. 


Toleon  Dore  41 

But  bad  luck  is  sometam  fetch  us,    for  beeg 

strong  win'  come  an'  ketch  us, 
Jus'  so  soon  we  struck  de  rapide — jus'   so 

soon  we  see  de  smoke, 
A.n'  before  we  spik  some  prayer  for  ourse'f  dat 

's  fightin'  dere, 

Roun'  we  come  upon  de  beeg  rock,  an'  it  's 
den  d_e  raf  she  broke. 


Dat  was  tam  poor  Paul   Desjardins,    from  de 

parish  of  St.  Germain, 
He  was  long  way  on  de  fronte  side,  so  he  's 

fallin'  overbear' 
Could  n't  swim  at  all  de  man  say,  but  dat's 

more  ma  frien',  I  can  say, 
Any  how  he  's  look  lak  drownin',  so  we  '11 
t'row  him  two  t'ree  oar. 


Dat  's  'bout  all  de  help  our  man  do,   dat  's 

'bout  ev'ryt'ing  we  can  do, 
As  de  crib  we  're  hangin'  onto  balance  on 

de  rock  itse'f, 
Till  de  young    Napoleon  Dor£,   heem  I  start 

for  tole  de  story, 

Holler  out,  "  Mon  Dieu,  I  don't  lak  see  poor 
Paul  go  drown  hese'f. " 


42  The  Habitant 

So  he  's  mak'  beeg  jomp  on  water,  jus'  de  sam' 

you  see  some  otter 
An'  he  's  pass  on  place  w'ere  Paul  is  tryin' 

hard  for  keep  afloat, 
Den  we  see  Napoleon  ketch  heem,   try  hees 

possibill  for  fetch  heem 

But  de  current  she  's  more  stronger,  an'  de 
eddy  get  dem  bote. 


O  Mon  Dieu !  for  see  dem  two  man,  mak'  me 

feel  it  cry  lak  woman, 
Roun'  an'  roun'  upon  de  eddy,  quickly  dem 

poor  feller  go, 
Can't  tole  wan  man   from   de  oder,  an'  we  '11 

know  dem  bote  lak  broder, 
But  de  fight  she  soon    is   finish — Paul   an' 
'Poleon  go  below. 


Yass,  an'  all  de  tarn  we  stay  dere,  only  t'ing 

we  do  is  pray  dere, 
For    de    soul    poor    drownin'    feller,    dat  's 

enough  mak'  us  feel  mad, 
Torteen  voyageurs,  all  brave  man,  glad  get  any 

chances  save  man, 

But  we  don't  see  no  good  chances,  can't  do 
not'ing,  dat  's  too  bad. 


'Poleon  Dore  43 

Wall!   at  las'  de  crib  she  's  come  way  off  de 

rock,  an'  den  on  some  way, 
By  an'  by  de  w'ole  gang  's  passin'  on  safe 

place  below  de  Cuisse, 
Ev  ryboddy's  heart  she  's  breakin',  w'en  dey 

see  poor  Paul  he  's  taken 
Wit'  de  young  Napoleon  Dor£,  bes'  boy  on 
de  St.  Maurice! 


An'  day  affer,  Bill  McKeever  fin'  de  bote  man 

on  de  reever, 
Wit'  deir  arm  aroun'  each  oder,  mebbe  pass 

above  dat  way — 
So  we  bury  dem  as  we  fin'  dem,  w'ere  de  pine 

tree  wave  behin'  dem 

An  de  Grande  Montagne  he  's  lookin'  down 
on  Marcheterre  Bay. 


You  can't  hear  no  church  bell  ring  dere,  but  le 

rossignol  is  sing  dere, 
An'  w'ere  ole  red  cross  she  's  stannin',  mebbe 

some  good  ange  gardien, 
Watch  de  place  w'ere  bote  man  sleepin',  keep 

de  reever  grass  from  creepin' 
On  de  grave  of  'Poleon  Dore,  an'  of  poor 
Paul  Desjardins. 


DC  NOTAIRE 
PIMIQUE 


\/[  'SIEU  Paul  Joulin, 


de  Notaire  Pub- 
lique 

Is     come     I    s'pose 
seexty  year   hees 
life 
An'  de  mos'  riche  man  on 

Sainte  Angelique 
Wen  he  feel  very  sorry 

he  got  no  wife — 
So  he  's  paint  heem  hees 

buggy,  lak  new,  by  Gor! 
Put  flower  on  hees  coat,  mak'  hese'f  more 

gay 

Arrange  on  hees  head  fine  chapeau  castor 
An'  drive  on  de  house  of  de  Boulanger. 


For  de  Boulanger  's  got  heem  une  jolie  fille 
Mos'  bes'  lookin'  girl  on  paroisse  dey  say 


"De  Notaire  Publique"         45 

An'  all  de  young  feller  is  lak  Julie 

An'  plaintee  is  ax  her  for  mak'  mariee, 

But  Julie  she  's  love  only  jus'  wan  man, 
Hees  nam'  it  is  Jeremie  Dandurand 

An'  he  's  work  for  her  sak'  all  dc  hard  he  can* 
'Way  off  on  de  wood,  up  de  Mattawa. 

M'Sieu  Paul  he  spik  him  "  Bonjour  Mamzelle, 

You  lak  promenade  on  de  church  wit'  me  ? 
Jus'  wan  leetle  word  an*  we  go  ma  belle 

An*  see  heem  de  Cure  toute  suite,  cherie; 
I  dress  you  de  very  bes'  style  a  la  mode, 

If  you  promise  for  be  Madame  Paul  Joulin, 
For  I  got  me  fine  house  on  Bord  a  Plouffe  road 

Wit'  mor'gage  also  on  de  Grande  Moulin." 

But  Julie  she  say  "  Non,  non,  M'Sieu  Paul, 

Dat  's  not  correc'  t'ing  for  poor  Jeremie 
For  I  love  dat  young  feller  lak  not'ing  at  all, 

An'  I  'm  ver)7  surprise  you  was  not  know  me. 
Jeremie  w'en  he  's  geev  me  dat  nice  gol'  ring, 

Las'  tarn  he  's  gone  off  on  de  Mattawa 
Say  he  's  got  'noder  wan  w'en  he  's  come  nex' 
spring 

Was  mak'  me  for  sure  Madame  Dandurand. 

"  I  t'ank  you  de  sam'  M'Sieu  Paul  Joulin 
I  s'pose  I  mus'  be  de  wife  wan  poor  man 


46  The  Habitant 

Wit'  no  chance  at  all  for  de  Grande  Moulin, 
But  leev  all  de  tarn  on  some  small  cabane." 

De  Notaire  Publique  den  is  tak'  hees  hat, 
For  he  t'ink  sure  enough  dat  hees  dog  she  's 
dead ; 

Dere  's  no  use  mak'  love  on  de  girl  lak  dat, 
Wit'  not'ing  but  young  feller  on  de  head. 


Julie  she  's  feel  lonesome  mos'  all  dat  week, 

Don't  know  w'at  may  happen  she  wait  till 

spring 
Den  t'ink  de  fine  house  of  Notaire  Publique 

An'   plaintee  more  too— but  love  's  funny 

t'ing! 
So  nex'  tarn  she  see  de  Notaire  again, 

She  laugh  on  her  eye  an'  say  "  M'Sieu  Paul 
Please  pass  on  de  house,  or  you  ketch  de  rain, 

Dat  's  very  long  tarn  you  don't  come  at  all." 


She  's  geev  him  so  soon  he  's  come  on  de  door 

Du  vin  de  pays,  an'  some  nice  galettes, 
She  's  mak'  dem  herse'f  only  day  before 

An'  he  say  "  Bigosh !  dat  is  fine  girl  yet." 
So  he  's  try  hees  chances  some  more — hooraw! 

Julie  is  not  mak'  so  moche  troub'  dis  tarn; 
She  's  forget  de  poor  Jeremie  Dandurand 

An'  tole  de  Notaire  she  will  be  hees  famme. 


"  De  Notarie  Publique  "        47 

Wen  Jeremie  come  off  de  wood  nex'  spring, 

An'  fin'  dat  hees  girl  she  was  get  mariee 
Everybody  's  expec'  he  will  do  somet'ing, 

But  he  don't  do  not'ing  at  all,  dey  say; 
For  he  's  got  'noder  girl  on  Sainte  Dorothea, 

Dat  he  's  love  long  tarn,  an'  she  don't  say 

"  No," 
So  he  's  forget  too  all  about  Julie 

An'  mak'  de  mariee  wit'  hese'f  also. 


A 

CANADIAN 
VOYAGEUB3 
ACCOUNT 
THE 
EXPEDITK 


"  MAXIME    LABELLE." 

VICTORIAW :  she  have  beeg  war,  E-gyp  's 
de  nam'  de  place — 
An'  neeger  peep  dat  's  leev  'im  dere,  got  very 

black  de  face, 
An'  so  she  's  write  Joseph  Mercier,  he  's  stop 

on  Trois  Rivieres — 

Please  come  right  off,  an'  bring  wit'  you  t'ree 
bonder  voyageurs. 

48 


"Maxime  Labelle"  49 

'  I  got  de  plaintee  sojer,  me,  beeg  feller  six  foot 
tall  - 

Dat  's  Englishman,  an'  Scotch  also,  don't  wear 
no  pant  at  all ; 

Of  course,  de  Irishman  's  de  bes',  raise  all  de 
row  he  can, 

But  noboddy  can  pull  batteau  lak  good  Cana- 
dian man. 


"  I  geev  you  steady  job  for  sure,  an'  w'en  you 

get  'im  t'roo 
I  bring  you  back  on  Canadaw,  don't  cos'  de 

man  un  sou, 
Dat  's  firs'-class  steamboat  all  de  way  Kebeck 

an'  Leeverpool, 
An'  if  you  don't  be  satisfy,  you  mus'  be  beeg, 

beeg  fool." 


We  meet  upon  Hotel  Dufresne,  an'  talk  heem 
till  daylight, 

An'  Joe  he  's  treat  so  many  tam,  we  very  near 
get  tight, 

Den  affer  w'ile,  we  mak'  our  min'  dat  's  not 
bad  chance,  an'  so 

Joseph  Mercier  he  's  telegraph,  "  Correc',  Ma- 
dame, we  go." 


50  The  Habitant 

So  Joe  arrange  de  whole  beez-nesse  wit'  Queen 

Victoriaw ; 
Two  dollar  day — work  all  de  tarn — dat  's  purty 

good  1'argent! 
An'  w'en  we  start  on  Trois  Rivieres,  for  pass 

on  boar'  de  ship, 
Our  frien'  dey  all  say,  "  Bon  voyage,"  an'  den 

Hooraw !  E-gyp' ! 


Dat  beeg  steamboat  was  plonge  so  moche,  I  'm 

'fraid  she  never  stop — 
De  Capitaine  's  no  use  at  all,  can't  kip  her  on 

de  top — 
An'  so  we  all  come  very  sick,  jus'  lak  one  leetle 

pup, 
An'  ev'ry  tam  de  ship  's  go  down,  de  inside 

she  's  go  up. 


I   'm  sorry  spoke  lak  dis,   ma  frien',   if  you 

.don't  t'ink  it  's  so, 
Please  ax  Joseph  Mercier  hese'f,  or  Aleck  De 

Courteau, 
Dat  stay  on  bed  mos'  all  de  tam,  so  sick  dey 

nearly  die, 
But  lak'  some  great,  beeg  Yankee  man,  was 

never  tole  de  lie. 


"Maxime  Labelle"  51 

De  gang  she  's  travel,  travel,  t'roo  many 
strange  contree, 

An'  ev'ry  place  is  got  new  nam',  I  don't  re- 
member, me, 

We  see  some  fonny  t'ing,  for  sure,  more  fonny 
I  can  tell, 

But  w'en  we  reach  de  Neel  Riviere,  dat  's  feel 
more  naturel. 


So  many  fine,  beeg  sojer  man,  I  never  see  be- 
fore, 

All  dress  heem  on  grand  uniform,  is  wait  upon 
de  shore, 

Some  black,  some  green,  an'  red  also,  cos' 
honder  dollar  sure, 

An'  holler  out,  "  She  's  all  right  now,  here 
come  de  voyageurs!  " 


We  sec  boss  Gcncrale  also,  he  's  ride  on  beeg 

chamcau, 
Dat  's  w'at  you  call  Ca-mellc,  I  t'ink,  I  laugh 

de  way  she  go ! 
Jomp  up,  jomp  down,  jomp  ev'ry  place,  but 

still  de  Generale 
Seem  satisfy  for  stay  on  top,  dat  fonny  an-i- 

mal. 


52  The  Habitant 

He  's  holler  out  on  Joe  Mercier,  "  Comment 

ca  va  Joseph 
You  lak  for  come  right  off  wit"  me,  tak'  leetle 

ride  yourseff  ?  " 
Joseph,  he  mak'  de  grand  salut,  an'  tak'  it  off 

hees  hat, 
Merci,  Mon  Generale, "  he  say,  "  I  got  no  use 

for  dat." 


Den  affer  we  was  drink  somet'ing,   an'    sing 

"  Le  Brigadier," 
De  sojer  fellers  get  prepare,  for  mak'  de  em- 

barquer, 
An'  everybody   's  shout  heem  out,   w'en  we 

tak'  hole  de  boat 
'  Hooraw  pour  Queen  Victoriaw!  "   an'  also 

"  pour  nous  autres." 


Bigosh ;  I  do  hard  work  mese'f  upon  de  Ot- 
tawa, 

De  Gatineau  an'  St.  Maurice,  also  de  Mat- 
tawa, 

But  I  don't  never  work  at  all,  I  'sure  you  dat  's 
a  fack 

Until  we  strike  de  Neel  Riviere,  an'  sapr£ 
Catarack ! 


"Maxime  Labelle"  53 

"  Dis  way,  dat  way,  can't  keep  her  straight," 

"  look  out,  Bateese,  look  out!" 
"  Now  let  her  go  " — "  arrete  un  peu,"  dat  's 

way  de  pilot  shout, 
"  Don't  wash  de  neeger  girl  on  shore,"  anr 

"  prenez  garde  behin'," 
"  Wat 's  matter  wit'  dat  rudder  man  ?     It' ink 

he  's  goin'  blin' !  " 


Some  tarn  of  course,  de  boat  's  all  right,  an* 
carry  us  along 

An'  den  again,  we  mak  portage,  w'en  current 
she  's  too  strong 

On  place  lak'  dat,  we  run  good  chance,  for  sun- 
struck  on  de  neck, 

An'  plaintee  tarn  we  wish  ourseff  was  back  on 
ole  Kebeck. 


De  seconde  Catarack  we  pass,  more  beeger  dar 
de  Soo, 

She  's  nearly  t'orty  mile  for  sure,  it  would  as- 
tonish you, 

Dat  's  place  t'ree  Irishman  get  drown,  wan  day 
we  have  beeg  storm, 

I  s'pose  de  Queen  is  feel  lak  cry,  los'  dat  nice 
uniform ! 


54  The  Habitant 

De  night  she  's  very,  very  cole,  an'  hot  upon 

de  day, 
An*  all  de  tarn,  you  feel  jus'  lak  you  're  goin' 

melt  away, 
But  never  min'  an'  don't  get  scare,  you  mak' 

it  up  all  right, 
An'   twenty  poun'   you    los'   dat  day,   rhe    's 

comin'  back  sam'  night. 


We  got  small  bugle  boy  also,  he  's  mebbe  stan' 

four  foot, 
An'  firs'  t'ing  ev'ry  morning,  sure,  he  mak'  it 

toot!  toot!  toot! 
She  's  nice  enough  upon  de  day,  for  hear  de 

bugle  call, 
But  w'en  she  play  before  daylight,  I  don't  lak 

dat  at  all. 


We  mus'   get   up  immediatement,    dat   leetle 

feller  blow, 
An'  so  we  start  heem  off  again,   for  pull  de 

beeg  batteau, 
De  sojer  man  he  's  nice,  nice  boy,  an'  help  us 

all  he  can, 
An'  geev  heem  chance,  he  's  mos'  as  good  lak 

some  Canadian  man. 


"  Maxime  Labelle  "  55 

Wall  all  de  tam,  she  go  lak  dat,  was  busy  every 

day, 
Don't  get  moche  chance  for  foolish-ness,  don't 

get  no  chance  for  play, 
Dere  's  plaintee  danger   all  aroun',  an'  w'en 

we  're  comin'  back 
We  got  look  out  for  run  heem  safe,  dem  sapr£ 

Catarack. 


But  w'ere  's  de  war  ?     I  can't  mak'  out,  don't 

see  no  fight  at  all! 
She  's  not'ing  but  une  Grande  Piqnique,  dat  's 

las'  in  all  de  fall! 
Mebbe  de  neeger  King  he  's  scare,  an'  skip 

anoder  place, 
An'  pour  la  Reine  Victoriaw!  I  never  see  de 

face. 


But  dat  's  not  ma  beez-nesse,  ma  frien',  I  'm 

ready  pull  batteau 
So  long  she  pay  two  dollar  day,  wit'  pork  an' 

bean  also; 
An'  if  she  geev  me  steady  job,  for  mak'  some 

more  1' argent, 
I  say,  "  Hooraw!    for  all  de  tam,    on  Queen 

Victoriaw!  " 


O  SPIRIT  of  the  mountain  that  speaks  to 
us  to-night, 
Your  voice  is  sad,  yet  still  recalls  past  visions 

of  delight, 
When   'mid   the   grand   old    Laurentides,    old 

when  the  earth  was  new, 

With  flying  feet  we  followed  the  moose  and 
caribou. 

And  backward  rush  sweet  memories,  like  frag- 
ments of  a  dream, 

We  hear  the  dip  of  paddle  blades,  the  ripple  of 
the  stream, 


Memories  57 

The  mad,  mad  rush  of  frightened  wings  from 

brake  and  covert  start, 
The  breathing  of  the  woodland,  the  throb  of 

nature's  heart. 


Once  more  beneath  our  eager  feet  the  forest 

carpet  springs, 
We  march  through  gloomy  valleys,  where  the 

vesper  sparrow  sings. 
The  little  minstrel  heeds  us  not,  nor  stays  his 

plaintive  song, 
As  with  our  brave  coureurs  de  bois  we  swiftly 

pass  along. 

Again  o'er  dark  Wayagamack,  in  bark  canoe 

we  glide, 
And  watch  the  shades  of  evening  glance  along 

the  mountain  side. 
Anon  we  hear  resounding  the   wizard    loon's 

wild  cry, 
And  mark  the  distant  peak  whereon  the  lin- 

g'ring  echoes  die. 

But   Spirit  of  the  Northland!  let  the  winter 

breezes  blow, 
And  cover  every  giant  crag  with  rifts  of  driving 

snow. 


58  The  Habitant 

Freeze  every  leaping  torrent,  bind  all  the  crys- 
tal lakes, 

Tell  us  of  fiercer  pleasures  when  the  Storm 
King  awakes. 


And   now  the  vision  changes,  the  winds  are 

loud  and  shrill, 
The  falling  flakes  are  shrouding  the  mountain 

and  the  hill, 
But  safe  within  our  snug  cabane  with  comrades 

gathered  near, 
We  set  the  rafters  ringing  with  "  Roulant  " 

and  "  Brigadier." 


Then  after  Pierre  and  Telesphore  have  danced 

"  Le  Caribou," 
Some  hardy  trapper  tells  a  tale  of  the  dreaded 

Loup  Garou, 
Or  phantom  bark   in    moonlit    heavens,    with 

prow  turned  to  the  East, 
Fringing  the  Western   voyageurs  to  join  the 

Christmas  feast. 


And    while    each    backwoods    troubadour    is 

greeted  with  huzza 
Slowly  the  homely  incense  of  "  tabac  Cana- 

yen" 


Memories  59 

Rises  and   sheds  its  perfume  like  flowers    of 

Araby, 

O  'er   all   the  true-born  loyal    Enfants   de   la 
Patrie. 


And  thus  with  song  and  story,  with  laugh  and 

jest  and  shout, 
We  heed   not  dropping  mercury   nor   storms 

that  rage  without, 
But  pile  the  huge  logs  higher  till  the  chimney 

roars  with  glee, 
And  banish  spectral  visions  with  La  Chanson 

Normandie. 

"  Brigadier!  r£pondit  Pandore 

Brigadier!  vous  avez  raison, 

Brigadier!  repondit  Pandore, 

Brigadier!  vous  avez  raison!  " 

O  spirit  of  the  mountain!  that  speaks  to  us 

to-night, 
Return  again  and  bring  us  new  dreams  of  past 

delight, 
And  while  our  heart-throbs  linger,  and  till  our 

pulses  cease, 
We  '11   worship   thee   among   the   hills  where 

flows  the  Saint-Maurice. 


A   STORY   OF   THE    "  CHASSE    GALLERIE. " 

In  the  days  of  the  "Old  Regime"  in  Canada,  the  free  life 
of  the  woods  and  prairies  proved  too  tempting  for  the  young 
men,  who  frequently  deserted  civilization  for  the  savage  de- 
lights of  the  wilderness.  These  voyageurs  and  coureurs  de  bois 
seldom  returned  in  the  flesh,  but  on  every  New  Year's  Eve, 
back  thro'  snowstorm  and  hurricane — in  mid-air — came  their 
spirits  in  ghostly  canoes,  to  join,  for  a  brief  spell,  the  old  folks 
at  home  and  kiss  the  girls,  on  the  annual  feast  of  the  "Jour 
del'an,"or  New  Year's  Day.  The  legend  which  still  survives 
in  French-speaking  Canada,  is  known  as  "  La  Chasse  Gallerie." 

60 


Phil-o-rum  Juneau  61 

HE  sit  on  de  corner  mos'  every  night,  ole 
Phil-o-rum  Juneau, 
Spik  wit'  hese'f  an'  shake  de  head,  an'  smoke 

on  de  pipe  also: — 
Very  hard  job  it  's  for  wake  him  up,  no  matter 

de  loud  we  call 

Wen  he  's  feex  hese'f  on  de  beeg  arm-chair, 
back  on  de  kitchen  wall. 


He   don't  believe  not'ing  at  all,  at  all   'bout 

lates'  new  fashion  t'ing 
Le  char  'lectrique  an'  de  telephome,  was  talk 

w'en  de  bell  she  ring 
Uat  's  leetle  too  moche  for  de  ole  bonhomme, 

mak'  him  shake  it  de  head  an'  say 
'  Wat's   use   mak'    de   foolish  lak  dat,   sapre! 

I  'm  not  born  only  yesterday." 


But  if  you  want  story  dat  's  true,  true,  true,  I 

tole  you  good  wan  moi-meme 
An  de  t'ing  you  was  spik,  dat  I  don't  believe, 

for  sure  she  was  beat  all  dem. 
So  he  's  cough  leetle  cough,  clear  'im  up  de 

t'roat,  fill  hees  pipe  wit'  some  more  tabac, 
An'  w'en  de  chil'ren  is  come  tranquille,  de  ole 

man  begin  comme  ca. 


62  The  Habitant 

L'enfant!  1'enfant!    it  's   very    strange   t'ing! 

mak'  me  laugh  too  w'en  I  hear 
De  young  peep  talk  of  de  long,  long  tarn  of 

seventy,  eighty  year! 
Dat  's  only  be  jus*  eighty  New  Year  Day,  an: 

quickly  was  pass  it  by 
It  's  beeg,  beeg  dream,  an'  you  don't  wake  up, 

till  affer  you  're  comin'  die. 


Dat  's  true  sure  enough,  you  see  curi's  t'ing, 

if  you  only  leev  leetle  w'ile, 
So  long  you    got  monee  go  all  de  place,  for 

mebbe  t'ree  t'ousan'  mile, 
But  monee  's  not  everyt'ing  on  dis  worl',  I  tole 

you  dat,  mes  amis, 
An'  man  can  be  ole  lak'  two  honder  year,  an' 

not  see  it,  La  Chasse  Gal'rie. 


I  never  forget  de  fine  New  Year  night,  nearly 

seexty  year  ago, 
W'en  I  'm  lef  it  our  place  for  attend  soiree,  on 

ole  Maxime  Baribault, 
Nine  mile  away,  I  can  see  tin  roof,  on  church 

of  de  St.  Joseph, 
An'  over  de  snow,  de  leaf  dat  die  las'  fall,  was 

chasin'  itse'f. 


Phil-o-rum  Juneau  63 

Dere  was  some  of  de  neighbor  house  I  call, 

dat  's  be  de  ole  fashion  style, 
An'  very  nice  style  too,  mes  amis,  I  hope  she 

will  las'  long  w'ile, 
I  shak'  it  de  han',  I  drink  sante,  an'  kiss  it  de 

girl  she  's  face, 
So  it  's  come  ten  o'clock,  w'en  I  pass  on  road, 

for  visit  Maxime  hees  place. 


But  I  'm  not  go  more  mebbe  t'ree  arpent,  w'en 

de  sky  is  get  black  all  roun', 
An'  de  win'  she  blow  lak  I  never  see,  an'  de 

beeg  snowstorm  come  down. 
I  mak'  it  my  min'  she  's  goin'  be  soon,  de  very 

bad  night  for  true, 
Dat  's  locky  I  got  plaintee  whiskey  lef,  so  I 

tak'  it  wan  leetle  "  coup." 


Purty  quick  affer  dat,  I  'm  comin'  nice  place, 

was  stan'in'  some  fine  beeg  tree 
Were  de  snow  don't  dreef,  an'  it  seem  jus' 

lak  dat  place  it  is  mak'  for  me, 
So  I  pass  it  on  dere,  for  mak'  safe  mese'f,  w'ile 

de  storm  is  blow  outside, 
As  if  all  de  devil  on  hell  below,  was  tak'  heem 

some  fancy  ride. 


64  The  Habitant 

Wan  red  fox  he  's  comin'  so  close,  so  close,  I 

could  ketch  him  wit'  de  han', 
But  not  on  de  tarn  lak  dis  ma  frien',  "  Marche 

toi  all  de  quick  you  can," 
Poor  feller  he  's  tire  an'  seem  los'  hees  way, 

an'  w'en  he  reach  home  dat  night 
Mebbe  he  fin'  it  all  was  close  up,  an'  de  door 

it  was  fassen  tight. 


But  w'at  is  dat  soun'  mak'  de  hair  stan'  up, 

w'at  is  it  mean,  dat  cry  ? 
Comin'  over  de  high  tree  top,  out  of  de  nor'- 

wes'  sky 
Lak  cry  of  de  wil'  goose  w'en  she  pass  on  de 

spring  tarn  an'  de  fall, 
But  wil'  goose  fly  on  de  winter  night!     I  never 

see  dat  at  all. 


On,  on  t'roo  de  night,  she  is  quickly  come, 
more  closer  all  de  tarn, 

But  not  lak  de  cry  of  some  wil'  bird  now,  don't 
seem  it  at  all  de  sam' ; 

An'  den  wit'  de  rush  of  de  win',  I  hear  some- 
body sing  chanson 

An'  de  song  dey  sing  is  de  ole,  ole  song,  "  Le 
Canayen  Errant." 


Phil-o-rum  Juneau  65 

But  it  's  mak'  me  lonesome  an'  scare  also,  jus' 

sam'  I  be  goin'  for  die 
Wen  I  lissen  dat  song  on  night  lak  dis,  so  far 

away  on  de  sky, 
Don't  know  w'at  to  do  at  all  mese'f,  so  I  go 

w'ere  I  have  good  view, 
An'    up,  up  above  t'roo  de  storm  an'  snow, 

she  's  comin'  wan  beeg  canoe. 


Den  somebody  call  it  ma  nam'  out  loud,  firs' 

tarn  it  was  scare  me  so, 
'  We  know  right  away,  dat  was  you  be  dere, 

hello  Phil-o-rum,  hello!  " 
An'  soon  I  see  him  dat  feller  spik,  I  'member 

him  too  mese'f, 
We  go  de  sam'  school  twenty  year  before,  hees 

nam's  Telesphore  Le  Boeuf. 


But  I  know  on  de  way  canoe  she  go,  dat  de 

crowd  he  mus'  be  dead  man 
Was  come  from  de  Grande  Riviere  du  Nord, 

come  from  Saskatchewan, 
Come  too  from  all  de  place  is  lie  on  de  Hodson 

Bay  Contree, 
An'  de  t'ing  I  was  see  me  dat  New  Year  night, 

is  le  phantome  Chasse  Gal'rie. 


66  The  Habitant 

An'  many  de  boy  I  was  see  him  dere,  I  know 

him  so  long  before 
He  's  goin'  away  on  de  far  contree — for  never 

return  no  more — 
An'  now  on  phantome  he  is  comin'  home — t'roo 

de  storm  an'  de  hurricane 
For  kiss  him  de  girl  on  jour  de  1'an,  an'  see  de 

ole  peep  again. 


De   beeg  voyageur  w'at  is   steer   canoe,   wit* 

paddle  hoi'  on  hees  han' 
Got  very  long  hair  was  hang  down  hees  neck, 

de  sam'  as  wil'  Injin  man 
Invite  me  on  boar'   dat  phantome  canoe,  for 

show  it  dead  man  de  way — 
Don't  lak  it  de  job,  but  no  use  refuse,  so  I  '11 

mak'  it  de  embarquer. 


Den  wan  of  de  gang,  he  mus'  be  foreman,  say 

it  's  tarn  for  have  leetle  drink, 
So   he   pass   heem    black    bottle    for   tak'    un 

"  coup,"  an'  it  's  look  lak  ma  own  I  t'ink, 
But  it  can't  be  de  sam',  I  '11  be  swear  for  dat, 

for  w'en  I  was  mak'  de  go, 
I  fin'  dere  is  not'ing  inside  but  win',  an'  de 

whiskey  's  phantome  also. 


Phil-o-rum  Juneau  67 

Dey  be  laugh  affer  dat,  lak  dey  tak'  some  fit, 

so  de  boss  spik  him,  "  Tiens  Phil-o-rum, 
Never  min'   on  dem  feller — mus'   have  leetle 

sport,  dat  's  very  long  way  we  come, 
Will  you  ketch  it  de  paddle  for  steer  us  quick 

on  place  of  Maxime  Baribault  ?  " 
An'  he  's  ax  me  so  nice,  I  do  as  he  please",  an 

den  away  off  she  go. 


Wan  minute — two  minute — we  pass  on  dere, 

Maxime  he  is  all  hooraw! 
An'  we  know  by  musique  dat  was  play  inside, 

mus'  be  de  great  Joe  Violon, 
Dat  feller  work  fiddle  on  very  bes'  way,  dat 

nobody  never  see 
Mak'  de  boy  an'  de  girl,  ole  peep  also,  dance 

lak  dey  was  go  crazee. 


You  s'pose  dey  was  let  me  come  on  dat  house  ? 

Not  at  all,  for  de  boss  he  say, 
''  Phil-o-rum,  it  's  long  tarn  we  don't  see  our 

fren',  can't  get  heem  chance  ev'ry  day, 
Please  stop  on  canoe  so  she  won't  blow  off, 

w'ile  we  pass  on  de  house  an'  see 
Dem  frien'  we  was  lef  an'  de  girl  we  spark, 

before  we  go  strange  contree. " 


68  The  Habitant 

An'  me  I  was  sit  on  canoe  outside,  jus'  lak  I 

was  sapre  fou, 
Watchin'  dem  feller  dat  's  all  dead  man,  dance 

heem  lak  Loup  Garou. 
De  boss  he  kiss  Marie  Louise,  ma  girl,  dat  's 

way  he  spen'  mos"  de  tam, 
But  of  course  she  know  not'ing  of  dat  biz-nesse 

-—don't  lak  it  me  jus'  de  sam'. 


By   tam    I  'm    commence  it   for  feel  de  col', 

dey  're  all  comin'  out  encore, 
An'  we  start  off  again  t'roo  de  sky,  hooraw! 

for  mak'  de  visite  some  more, 
All  de  place  on  de  parish  we  go  dat  night, 

w'erever  dey  get  some  dance, 
Till  I  feel  it  so  tire,  I  could  sleep  right  off,  but 

dey  don't  geev  it  me  no  chance. 


De  las'  place  w'ere  passin'  dat  's  Bill  Boucher, 

he  's  very  good  frien'  of  me, 
An'  I  t'ink  it  's  near  tam  I  was  lef  dat  crowd, 

so  I  '11  snub  de  canoe  on  tree, 
Den  affer  dead  man  he  was  safe  inside,   an' 

ev'rywan  start  danser, 
I  go  on  de  barn  wat  's  behin'  de  house,  for 

see  I  can't  hide  away. 


Phil-o-rum  Juneau  69 

She  's  nice  place  de  barn,  an'  got  plaintee 
warm,  an'  I  'm  feel  very  glad  be  dere, 

So  long  dead  feller  don't  fin'  me  out,  an'  ketch 
.  it  me  on  de  hair, 

But  s'pose  I  get  col',  work  him  hard  all  night, 
'cos  I  make  it  wan  leetle  cough, 

Wen  de  rooster  he  's  scare,  holler  t'ree,  four 
tarn,  an'  whole  t'ing  she  bus'  right  off. 


I  '11  never  see  not'ing  so  quick  again- -Canoe 

an'  dead  man  go  scat ! 
She  's  locky  de  rooster  he  mak'  de  noise,  bus' 

ev'ryt'ing  up  lak  dat, 
Or  mebbe  dem  feller  get  me  encore,  an'  tak' 

me  on  Hodson  Bay, 
But  it  's  all  right  now,  for  de  morning's  come, 

an'  he  see  me  ole  Bill  Boucher. 


I  'm  feel  it  so  tire,  an'  sore  all  de  place,  wit1  all 

de  hard  work  I  do', 
'Cos  I  'm  not  very  use  for  mak'  paddle,  me,  on 

beeg,  beeg  phantome  canoe, 
But  Bill  an'  hees  boy  dey  was  leef  me  up,  an' 

carry  me  on  maison 
Were  plaintee  nice  t'ing  dey  was  mak'  me  eat, 

an'  drink  it  some  whiskey  blanc. 


;o  The  Habitant 

An'  now  w'en  I   'm  finish,  w'at  you  t'ink  it 

youse'f,  'bout  story  dat  you  was  hear  ? 
No  wonner  ma  hair  she  is  all  turn  w'ite  before 

I  get  eighty  year ! 
But  'member  dist'ing,  I  be  tole  you  firs,  don't 

los'  it  mes  chers  amis, 
De  man  he  can  leev  him  on  long,  long  tarn. 

an'  not  see  it  La  Chasse  Gal'rie! 


He  sit  on  de  corner  mos'  every  night,  ole  Phil- 

o-rum  Juneau, 
Spik  wit'  hese'f,  an'  shak'  de  head,  an'  smoke 

on  de  pipe  also, 
But  kip  very  quiet,  don't  wak'  him  up,  let  him 

stay  on  de  kitchen  wall, 
For  if  you  believe  w'at  de  ole  man  say,  you 

believe  anyt'ing  at  all. 


DC  §1 
BELL  Or 


GO  'way,  go  'way,  don't  ring  no  more,  ole 
bell  of  Saint  Michel, 
For  if  you  do,  I  can't  stay  here,  you  know  dat 

very  well, 
No  matter  how  I  close  ma  ear,  I  can't  shut  out 

de  soun', 

It  rise  so  high  'bove  all  de  noise  of  dis  beeg 
Yankee  town. 


The  Habitant 


An'  w'en  it  ring,  I  t'ink  i  feel  de 

cool,  cool  summer  breeze 
Dat  's  blow  across  Lac  Peezagonk, 

an'  play  among  de  trees, 
Dey're  makin' hay,  I  know  mese'f, 

can  smell  de  pleasant  smell 
O !  how  I  wish  I  could  be  dere  to 

day  on  Saint  Michel ! 

It  's  fonny  t'ing,  for  me  I  'm  sure, 

dat  's  travel  ev'ryw'ere, 
How  moche   I    t'ink   of   long  ago 

w'en  I  be  leevin'  dere; 
I    can't   'splain  dat  at   all,  at   all, 

mebbe  it  's  naturel, 
But  I  can't  help  it  w'en  I  hear  de 

bell  of  Saint  Michel. 

Dere  's  plaintee  t'ing  I  don't  for- 
get, but  I  remember  bes' 

De  spot  I  fin*  wan  day  on  June  de 
small  san'piper's  nes' 

An'  dat  hole  on  de  reever  w'ere  I 
ketch  de  beeg,  beeg  trout 

Was  very  nearly  pull  me  in  before 
I  pull  heem  out. 

An'  leetle  Elodie  Leclaire,  I  won- 

ner  if  she  still 
Leev   jus'  sam'  place   she    use   to 

eev  on  'noder  side  de  hill, 


De  Bell  of  St.  Michel  73 

But  s'pose  she  marry  Joe  Barbeau,dat  's  alway 

hangin'  roun' 
Since  I  am  lef  ole  Saint  Michel  for  work  on 

Yankee  town. 

Ah!  dere  she-  go,   ding  dong,   ding  dong,    its 

back,  encore  again 
An'  ole  chanson  come  on  ma  head  of  "a  la 

claire  fontaine," 
I  'm  not  surprise  it  soun'  so  sweet,  more  sweeter 

I  can  tell 
For  wit*  de  song  also  I  hear  de  bell  of  Saint 

Michel. 

It  's  very  strange  about  dat  bell,  go  ding  dong 

all  de  w'ile 
For  when  I  'm  small  garcon  at  school,   can't 

hear  it  half  a  mile; 
But  seems  more  farder  I  get  off  from  Church 

of  Saint  Michel, 
De  more  I  see  de  ole  village  an'  louder  soun' 

de  bell. 

O!  all  de  monee  dat  I  mak'  w'en  I  be  travel  roun' 
Can't  kip  me  long  away  from  home  on  dis  beeg 

Yankee  town, 
I  t'ink  I  '11  settle  down  again  on  Parish  Saint 

Michel, 
An'  leev  an'  die  more  satisfy  so  long  I  hear  dat 

bell. 


star 


PELANG!  Pelang!  Mon  cher  ga^on, 
I  t'ink  of  you — t'ink  of  you  night  and 

day — 

Don't  mak'  no  difference,  seems  to  me 
De  long  long  tarn  you  're  gone  away. 

De  snow  is  deep  on  de  Grande  Montagne — 
Lak  tonder  de  rapide  roar  below  — 

De  sam'  kin'  night,  ma  boy  get  los' 
On  beeg,  beeg  storm  forty  year  ago. 

An'  I  never  was  hear  de  win'  blow  hard, 

An'  de  snow  come   sweesh  on  de  window 
pane — 

74 


Pelang  75 

But  ev'ryt'ing  'pear  lak'  it  's  yesterday 
An'  whole  of  ma  troub'  is  come  back  again. 

Ah  me!  I  was  foolish  young  girl  den 

It  's  only  ma  own  plaisir  I  care, 
An'  w'en  some  dance  or  soiree  come  off 

Dat  's  very  sure  t'ing  you  will  see  me  dere. 

Don't  got  too  moche  sense  at  all  dat  tarn, 
Run  ev'ry  place  on  de  whole  contree — 

But  I  change  beeg  lot  w'en  Pelang  come  'long, 
For  I  love  him  so  well,  kin'  o'  steady  me. 

An'  he  was  de  bes'  boy  on  Coteau, 

An'  t'ink  I  am  de  bes'  girl  too  for  sure — 

He  's  tole  me  dat,  geev  de  ring  also 

Was  say  on  de  inside  "  Je  t'aime  toujours." 

I  geev  heem  some  hair  dat  come  off  ma  head, 
I  mak'  de  nice  stocking  for  warm  hees  feet, 

So  ev'ryt'ing  's  feex,  w'en  de  spring  is  come 
For  mak'  mariee  on  de  church  toute  suite. 

"  W'en  de  spring  is  come!  "     Ah  I  don't  see 
dat, 

Dough  de  year  is  pass  as  dey  pass  before, 
An'  de  season  come,  an'  de  season  go, 

But  our  spring  never  was  come  no  more. 


76  The  Habitant 

It  's  on  de  fete  of  de  jour  de  1'an, 
Ant'  de  worl'  outside  is  cole  an'  w'ite, 

As  I  sit  an'  watch  for  mon  cher  Pelang 

For  he  's  promise  come  see  me  dis  very  night. 

Bonhomme  Peloquin  dat  is  leev  near  us — 
He  's  alway  keep  look  heem  upon  de  moon — 

See  fonny  t'ing  dere  only  week  before, 

An'  say  he  's  expec*  some  beeg  storm  soon. 

So  ma  fader  is  mak'  it  de  laugh  on  me' 

"  Pelang  he   's  believe  heem   de   ole   Bon- 
homme 

Dat  t'ink  he  see  ev'ryt'ing  on  de  moon 

An'  mebbe  he  's  feel  it  too  scare  for  come." 

But  I  don't  spik  not'ing  I  am  so  sure 
Of  de  promise  Pelang  is  mak'  wit'  me — 

An'  de  mos'  beeg  storm  dat  is  never  blow 
Can't  kip  heem  away  from  hees  own  Marie. 

I  open  de  door,  an'  pass  outside 
For  see  mese'f  how  de  night  is  look 

An'  de  star  is  commence  for  go  couche 
De  mountain  also  is  put  on  hees  tuque. 

No  sooner,  I  come  on  de  house  again 

Were  ev'ryt'ing  feel  it  so  nice  an'  warm, 

Dan  out  of  de  sky  come  de  Nor'  Eas'  win' — 
Out  of  de  sky  come  de  beeg  snow  storm. 


Pelang  77 

Blow  lak  not'ing  I  never  see, 

Blow  lak  le  diable  he  was  mak'  grande  tour, 
De  snow  come  down  lak  wan  avalanche, 

An'  cole!  Mon  Dieu,  it  is  cole  for  sure   ! 

I  t'ink,  I  ti'nk  of  mon  pauvre  garcon, 

Dat  's  out  mebbe  on  de  Grande  Montagne; 

So  I  place  chandelle  we're  it  's  geev  good  light, 
An'  pray  Le  Bon  Dieu  he  will  help  Pelang. 

De  ole  folk  t'ink  I  am  go  crazee, 

An'  moder  she  's  geev  me  de  good  night  kiss; 
She  say  "  Go  off  on  your  bed,  Marie, 

Dere  's  nobody  come  on  de  storm  lak  dis. " 

But  ma  eye  don't  close  dat  long  long,  night 
For  it  seem  jus'  lak  phantome  is  near, 

An'  I  ti'nk  of  de  terrible  Loup  Garou 
An'  all  de  bad  story  I  offen  hear. 

Dere  was  tarn  I  am  sure  somet' ing  call"  Marie  ' 
So  plainly  I  open  de  outside  door, 

But  it  's  meet  me  only  de  awful  storm, 

An  de  cry  pass  away — don't  come  no  more 

An'  de  morning  sun,  w'en  he  's  up  at  las', 
Fin'  me  w'ite  as  de  face  of  de  snow  itse'f, 

For  I  know  very  well,  on  de  Grande  Montagne 
Ma  poor  Pelang  he  's  come  dead  hese'f. 


78  The  Habitant 

It  's  noon  by  de  clock  w'en  de  storm  blow  off, 
An'  ma  fader  an'  broder  start  out  for  see 

Any  track  on  de  snow  by  de  Mountain  side, 
Or  down  on  de  place  w'ere  chemin  should  be. 

No  sign  at  all  on  de  Grande  Montagne, 
No  sign  all  over  de  w'ite,  w'ite  snow; 

Only  hear  de  win'  on  de  beeg  pine  tree, 
An'  roar  of  de  rapide  down  below. 

An'  w'ere  is  he  lie,  mon  cher  Pelang! 

Pelang  ma  boy  I  was  love  so  well  ? 
Only  Le  Bon  Dieu  up  above 

An'  mebbe  de  leetle  snow  bird  can  tell. 

An  I  t'ink  I  hear  de  leetle  bird  say, 

'  Wait  till  de  snow  is  geev  up  it's  dead, 
Wait  till  I  go,  an'  de  robin  come, 

An'  den  you  will  fin'  hees  cole,  cole  bed." 

An'  it  's  all  come  true,  for  w'en  de  sun. 

Is  warm  de  side  of  de  Grande  Montagne 
An'  drive  away  all  de  winter  snow, 

We  fin'  heem  at  las',  mon  cher  Pelang! 

An'  here  on  de  fete  of  de  jour  de  1'an, 

Alone  by  mese'f  I  sit  again, 
W'ile  de  beeg,  beeg  storm  is  blow  outside, 

An'   de  snow  come  sweesh   on  de  window 
pane. 


Pelang  79 

Not  all  alone,  for  I  t'ink  I  hear 

De  voice  of  ma  boy  gone  long  ago; 

Can  hear  it  above  de  hurricane, 
An'  roar  of  de  rapide  down  below. 

Yes — yes — Pelang,  mon  cher  garc.cn ! 

I  t'ink  of  you,  t'ink  of  you  night  an'  day, 
Don't  mak'  no  difference  seems  to  me 

How  long  de  tarn  you  was  gone  away. 


MON  O10U4L  CASTOR 


I  'M  poor  man,  me,  but  I  buy  las'  May 
1     Wan  horse  on  de  Comp'nie  Passengaire, 
An'  auction  feller  w'at  sole  heem  say 

She  's  out  of  de  full-breed  "  Messengaire. ' 


Good  trotter  stock,  also  galluppe, 
But  work  long  tarn  on  de  city  car, 

Of  course  she  's  purty  well  break  heem  up, 
So  come  leetle  cheap — twenty-wan  dollarre. 


Mon  Choual  "Castor"         81 

Firs'  chance  I  sen'  heeni  on  St.  Cesaire, 

Were  I  t'ink  he  's  have  moche  better  sight, 

Mebbe  de  grass  an'  de  contree  air 

Very  soon  was  feex  heem  up  all  right. 

I  lef  heem  dere  till  de  fall  come  'long, 

An'  dat  trotter  he  can't  eat  grass  no  more, 

An'  w'en  I  go  dere,  I  fin'  heem  strong 
Lak  not'ing  I  never  see  before. 

I  heetch  heem  up  on  de  light  sulkee, 
L'enfant!  dat  horse  he  is  cover  groun'! 

Don't  tak'  long  tarn  for  de  crowd  to  see 
Mon  choual  he  was  leek  all  trotter  roun'. 

Come  down  de  race  course  lak'  oiseau 
Tail  over  datch  boar',  nice  you  please, 

Can't  tell  for  sure  de  quick  he  go, 

S'pose  somew'ere  'bout  two,  t'ree  forties. 

I  treat  ma  frien'  on  de  whiskey  blanc, 

An'  we  drink  "  Castor      he  's  bonne  sant£ 

From  L'Achigan  to  St.  Armand, 

He  's  bes'  horse  sure  on  de  whole  comte. 

'Bout  week  on  front  of  dis,  Lalime, 

Dat  man  drive  horse  call  "  Clevelan'  Bay  " 

Was  challenge,  so  I  match  wit'  heem 
For  wan  mile  heat  on  straight  away. 


82  The  Habitant 

Dat  's  twentyxdollarre  on  wan  side, 
De  lawyer  's  draw  de  paper  out, 

But  if  dem  trotter  come  in  tied, 

Wall !  all  dat  monee  's  go  on  spout. 

Nex'  t'ing  ma  backer  man,  Labrie, 

Tak'  off  his  catch-book  vingt  cinq  cents, 

An'  toss  Lalime  bes'  two  on  t'ree 
For  see  who  's  go  on  inside  fence. 

Bateese  Lalime,  he  's  purty  smart, 
An'  gain  dat  toss  wit'  jockey  trick. 

I  don't  care  me,  w'en  "  Castor  "  start, 
Very  soon  I  t'ink  he  's  mak'  heem  sick. 

Beeg  crowd  of  course  was  dere  for  see 
Dem  trotter  on  de  grand  match  race 

Some  people  come  from  St.  Remi 
An'  some  from  plaintee  'noder  place. 

W'en  all  is  ready,  flag  was  fall 

An'  way  dem  trotter  pass  on  fence 

Lak  not'ing  you  never  see  at  all, 

It  mak'  me  t'ink  of  "  St.  Lawrence."  * 

Castor,"  hees  tail  was  stan'  so  straight 
Could  place  chapeau  on  de  en'  of  top 
An'  w'en  he  struck  two  forty  gait 
Don't  seem  he's  never  go  for  stop. 

*  "St.  Lawrence,"  the  Canadian  "  Dexter." 


Mon  Choual  "Castor"         83 

Wall !  dat  's  all  right  for  firs'  half  mile 
Wen  Clevelan'  Bay  commence  for  break, 

Dat  mak'  me  feel  very  moche  lak  smile, 
I  'm  sure  "  Castor      he  's  took  de  cake. 

But  Lalime  pull  heem  hard  on  line 
An'  stop  "  Clevelan'  "  before  go  far, 

It  's  all  no  good,  he  can't  ketch  mine 
I  'm  go  more  quicker  lak  express  car. 

I  ;m  feel  all  right  for  my  monee, 

For  sure  mon  Choual  he  's  took  firs'  place, 
W  'en  'bout  arpent  from  home,  sapre, 

Somet'ing  she  's  happen,  I  'm  los'  de  race. 

Wan  bad  boy  he  's  come  out  on  track, 

I  cannot  see  dat  bad  boy's  han' ; 
He  's  hoi'  somet'ing  behin'  hees  back, 

It  was  small  bell,  I  understan*. 

Can  spik  for  dat,  ma  horse  go  well, 
An'  never  show  no  sign  of  sweat, 

Until  dat  boy  he  's  ring  hees  bell — 
Misere!  I  t'ink  I  hear  heem  yet! 

Wall!  jus'  so  soon  mon  Choual  "  Castor  " 
Was  hear  dat  bell  go  kling!  klang!  kling! 

He  's  tink  of  course  of  city  car, 
An'  spose  mus'  be  conductor  ring. 


84  The  Habitant 

Firs'  t'ing  I  know  ma  trotter  's  drop 
Dat  tail  was  stan'  so  straight  before. 

An'  affer  dat,  mebbe  he  stop 

For  me,  I  don't  know  not'ing  more. 

But  w'en  I  'm  come  alive  again 

I  fin'  dat  horse  call  "  Clevelan'  Bay  " 

Was  got  firs'  place,  an'  so  he  's  gain 
Dat  wan  mile  heat  on  straight  away. 

An'  now  w'erever  I  am  go 

Bad  boy  he  's  sure  for  holler  an'  yell 
Dis  done !  Dis  done !  Paul  Archambault ! 

Wat  's  matter  wit'  your  chestnutte  bell  ? 

Mak'  plaintee  troub'  dem  bad  gardens, 

An'  offen  ring  some  bell  also, 
Was  mad !  Could  plonge  on  de  St.  Laurent 

An'  w'at  to  do,  "  Castor  "  don't  know. 

Las'  tarn  I  pass  de  railway  track 
For  drive  avec  mon  frere  Alfred, 

In-jinne  she  's  ring,  "  Castor      he  's  back, 
Monjee!  it  's  fonny  I  'm  not  come  dead! 

Toujours  comme  $a!  an'  mak'  me  sick, 
But  horse  dat  work  long  on  les  chars 

Can't  broke  dem  off  on  fancy  trick 
So  now  I  'm  busy  for  sole  "  Castor," 


ILAK  on  summer  ev'ning,  w'en   nice  cool 
win'  is  blowin' 
An'  up  above  ma  head,  I  hear  de  pigeon  on 

de  roof, 
To  bring  ma  chair  an'  sit  dere,  an'  watch  de 

current  flowin' 

Of  ole  Riviere  des  Prairies  as  she  pass  de 
Bord-a  Plouffe. 

85 


86  The  Habitant 

But  it  seem  dead  place  for  sure  now,  on  shore 

down  by  de  lan'in' — 
No  more  de  voyageurs  is  sing  lak  dey  was 

sing  alway — 
De    tree    dey    're    commence    growin'    w'ere 

shaintee  once  is  stan'in', 
An'   no  one  scare  de  swallow  w'en  she  fly 
across  de  bay. 


I   don't  lak  see  de  reever  she  's  never  doin' 

not'in' 
But  passin'  empty  ev'ry  day  on  Bout  de  1'ile 

below — 
Ma  ole  shaloup  dat  's  lyin'  wit'  all  its  timber 

rottin' 

An'  tarn  so  change  on  Bord-a  Plouffe  since 
forty  year  ago ! 


De  ice  dat  freeze  on  winter,  might  jus'  as  well 

be  stay  dere, 
For  w'en  de  spring  she  's  comin'  de  only 

t'ing  I  see 
Is  two,  t'ree  piqnique  feller,  hees  girl  was  row 

away  dere, 

Don't  got  no  use  for  water  now,  on  Riviere 
des  Prairies. 


Ole  Tarn  87 

'T  was  diff'rent  on  dem  summer  you  could  n't 

see  de  reever, 
Wit'  saw-log  an'  squar'  timber  raf ,  mos'  all 

de  season  t'roo — 
Two  bonder  man  an'  more  too — all  busy  lak 

de  beaver, 

An'   me!    I  'm   wan  de  pilot  for  ronne  'em 
down  de  "  Soo. " 


Don't  'member  lak  I  use  to,  for  now  I  'm  get- 
tin'  ole,  me — 
But  still  I  can't  forget  Bill  Wade,  an'  Guil- 

laume  Lagasse, 
Joe  Monferrand,  Bazile  Montour — wit'  plaintee 

I  can't  tole,  me, 

An'  king  of  all  de  Bord-a  Plouffe,  M'sieu' 
Venance  Lemay. 


Lak  small  boy  on  hees  lesson,  I  learn  de  way 

to  han'le 
Mos'  beeges'  raf  is  never  float  upon  de  Ot- 

tawaw, 
Ma  fader  show  me  dat  too,  for  well  he  know 

de  channel, 

From  Dutchman  Rapide  up  above  to  Bout 
de  1'ile  en  bas. 


The  Habitant 

He  's  smart  man  too,  ma  fader,  only  t'ing  he 

got  de  bow-leg, 
Ridin'  log  w'cn  leetle   feller,  mebbc  dat  's 

de  reason  w'y, 
All  de  sam',  if  he  's  in  hurry,  den  Bagosh!  he 

's  got  heem  no  leg 

But  wing  an'  fedder  lak  oiseau,  was  fly  upon 
de  sky ! 


O  dat  was  tarn  we  're  happy,  an'  man  dey  're 

alway  singin', 
For  if  it  's  hard  work  on  de  raf,  w'y  dere  's 

your  monee  sure! 
An'  ev'ry  summer  evenin',  ole  Bord-a  Plouffe 

she  's  ringin' 

Wit'    "En    Roulant    ma    Boule  "    an'    "J' 
aimerai  toujour. " 


Dere  dey  're  comin'  on  de  wagon!  fine  young 

feller  ev'ry  wan  too, 
Dress  im  up  de  ole  tarn  fashion,  dat  I  lak  for 

see  encore, 
Yellin'  hooiaw!  t'roo  de  village,  all  de  horse 

upon  de  ronne  too, 

Ah  poor  Bord-a  PloufTe!  she  never  have  dem 
tam  again  no  more ! 


Ole  Tarn  89 

Very  often  w'en  I  'm  sleepin',  I  was  feel  as  if 

I  'm  goin' 
Down  de  ole  Riviere  des  Prairies  on  de  raf 

de  sam  as  den — 
An'  ma  dream  is  only  lef  me,  w'en  de  rooster 

commence  crowin' 

But  it  can't  do  me  no  harm,  'cos  it  mak  me 
young  again. 


An'  upon  de  morning  early,  wen  de  reever  fog 

is  clearin' 
An'   sun  is  makin'   up  hees  min'  for  drive 

away  de  dew, 
W'en  young  bird  want  hees  breakfas',  I  wak' 

an'  t'ink  I  'm  hearin' 

Somebody  shout  "  Hooraw,  Bateese,  de  raf 
she  's  wait  for  you." 


Dat  's  voice  of  Guillaume  Lagasse  was  call  me 

on  de  morning 
Jus'  outside  on  de  winder  w'ere  you   look 

across  de  bay, 
But  he  's  drown  upon  de  Longue  "  Soo,"  wit' 

never  word  of  warning 

An'  green  grass  cover  over  poor  Guillaume 
Lagass6. 


90  The  Habitant 

I  s'pose  dat  's  meanin'  somet'ing — mebbe  I  'm 

not  long  for  stay  here, 
Seein'  all  dem  strange  t'ing  happen — dead 

frien'  comin'  roun'  me  so — 
But  I  'm  sure  I  die  more  happy,  if  I  got  jus' 

wan  more  day  here, 

Lak  we  have  upon  de  ole  tarn  Bord-a  Plouffe 
of  long  ago ! 


TO  the  hut  of  the  peasant  ,  or  lordly  hall, 
To  the  heart  of  the  king,   or  humblest 

thrall, 

Sooner  or  late,  love  comes  to  all, 
And  it  came  to  the  Grand  Seigneur,  my  dear, 
It  came  to  the  Grand  Seigneur. 


The  robins  were  singing  a  roundelay, 
And  the  air  was  sweet  with  the  breath  of  May, 
As  a  horseman  rode  thro'  the  forest  way, 
And  he  was  a  Grand  Seigneur,  my  dear, 
He  was  a  grand  Seigneur. 


Lord  of  the  Manor,  Count  Bellefontaine, 
Had  spurr'd  over  many  a  stormy  plain 
With  gallants  of  France  at  his  bridle  rein, 
For  he  was  a  brave  Cavalier,  my  dear — 
He  was  a  brave  Cavalier. 


92  The  Habitant 

But  the  huntsman's  daughter,  La  Belle  Marie, 
Held  the  Knight's  proud  heart  in  captivity, 
And  oh !  she  was  fair  as  the  fleur  de  lys, 
Tho'  only  a  peasant  maid,  my  dear, 
Only  a  peasant  maid. 


Thro'  the  woodland  depths  on  his  charger  grey 
To  the  huntsman's  cottage  he  rides  away, 
And  the  maiden  lists  to  a  tale  to-day 
That  haughtiest  dame  might  hear,  my  dear, 
That  haughtiest  dame  might  hear. 


But  she  cried  "  Alas!  it  may  never  be, 
For  my  heart  is  pledged  to  the  young  Louis, 
And  I  love  him,  O  Sire,  so  tenderly, 
Tho'  he  's  only  a  poor  Chasseur,  my  Lord, 
Only  a  poor  Chasseur." 


'  Enough,"  spake  the  Knight  with  a  courtly 

bow, 

'  Be  true  to  thy  lover  and  maiden  vow, 
For  virtue  like  thine  is  but  rare,  I  trow, 
And  farewell  to  my  dream  of  love,  and  thee, 
Farewell  to  my  dream  of  thee." 


The  Grand  Seigneur  93 

And  they  say  the  gallant  Count  Bellefontaine 
Bestowed  on  the  couple  a  rich  domain, 
But  you  never  may  hear  such  tale  again, 
For  he  was  a  Grand  Seigneur,  my  dear, 
He  was  a  Grand  Seigneur! 


THE  ADVENTURES 
OF  AN  ENGLISH- 
MAN IN  THE  CAN- 
ADIAN WOODS 

WANmorning 
de  walkim 
boss  say ' '  Damase, 
I  t'ink  you  're 
good     man   on 
canoe  d'ecorce, 
So  I  '11  ax  you  go 
wit'  your  frien' 
Phileas 

An'  meet  M'sieu' 
Smit'  on  Chen- 
ail  W'ite  Horse. 


"  He  '11  have  I  am  sure  de  grosse  baggage — 
Mebbe  some  valise — mebbe  six  or  t'ree — 

But  if  she  's  too  moche  for  de  longue  portage 
'Poleon  he  will  tak'  'em  wit'  mail  buggee." 


94 


M'sieu  Smit  95 

Wen  we  reach  Chenail,  plaintee  peep  be  dere, 
An'  wan  frien'  of  me,  call  Placide  Chretien, 

'Splain  all  dat  w'en  he  say  man  from  Angleterre 
Was  spik  heem  de  crowd  on  de  "  Parisian." 

Fonny  way  dat  Englishman  he  '11  be  dress, 
Leetle  pant  my  dear  frien'  jus'  come  on  knee. 

Wit'  coat  dat  's  no  coat  at  all — only  ves' 
An'  hat — de  more  stranger  I  never  see! 

Wall !  dere  he  sit  on  de  en'  some  log 
An'  swear  heem  in  English  purty  loud 

Den  talk  Francais,  w'ile  hees  chien  boule  dog 
Go  smellim  an'  smellim  aroun'  de  crowd. 

I  spik  im  "  Bonjour,  M'sieu'  Smit',  Bonjour, 
I  hope  dat  yourse'f  and  famille  she  's  well  ?  " 

M'sieu  Smit'  he  is  also  say  "  Bonjour," 

An'   call  off  hees  dog  dat  's  commence  for 
smell. 

I  tell  heem  my  name  dat  's  Damase  Labrie 
I  am  come  wit'  Phileas  for  mak'  de  trip, 

An'  he  say  I  'm  de  firs'  man  he  never  see 
Spik  English  encore  since  he  lef  de  ship. 

He  is  also  ax  it  to  me  "  Damase, 

De  peep  she  don't  seem  understan'  Francais, 
W'at  's  matter  wit'  dat  ?  "     An'  I  say  "  Becos 

You  mak'  too  much  talk  on  de  Parisien. " 


96  The  Habitant 

De  groun  she  is  pile  wit'  baggage — Sapre"! 

An'  I  see  purty  quick  we  got  plaintee  troub— 
Two  tronk,  t'ree  valise,  four-five  fusil. 

An'  w'at  M'sieu  Smit'  he  is  call  "bat"  tubbe. " 

M'sieu  Smit'  he  's  tole  me  w'at  for  's  dat  t'ing, 
An'  it  seem  Englishman  he  don't  feel  correc' 

Until  he  's  go  plonge  on  some  bat'  morning 
An'  sponge  it  hees  possibill  high  hees  neck 

Of  course  dat'  s  not'ing  of  my  beez-nesse, 
He  can  plonge  on  de  water  mos'  ev'ry  day, 

But  I  t'ink  for  mese'f  it  mak  foolishness 

An'  don't  do  no  good  w'en  your  bonne  sant£. 

Wen  I  tell  Toleon  he  mus'  mak'  dat  job, 
Dere  's  leetle  too  moche  for  canoe  d'£corce, 

He  's  mad  right  away  an'  say  "  Sapre  diable! 
You  t'ink  I  go  work  lak  wan  niggerhorse  ? 

"  I  'm  not  manufacture  dat  way,  ba  non, 
Dat  rich  stranger  man  he  have  lot  monee, 

I  go  see  my  frien'  One'sime  Gourdon, 

An'  tole  heem  bring  horse  wit'  some  more 
buggee. " 

Wall!  affer  some  w'ile  dey  '11  arrange  all  dat, 
'Poleon  an'  hees  frien'  Onesime  Gourdon, 

But  w'en  'Poleon  is  tak'  hole  of  bat', 
He  receive  it  beeg  scare  immediatement! 


M'sieu  Smit  97 

Dat  chien  boule  dog,  I  was  tole  you  'bout, 
I  am  not  understan'  w'at  good  she  's  for, 

Eat  'Poleon's  leg  w' it  hees  teet'  an'  mout, 
'Poleon  he  is  feel  very  mad — by  Gor! 


Of  course  I  am   poule  heem  hees  tail  toute 

suite 
But  I  don't  know  some  reason  mak  all  dis 

troub', 

Wen  I  hear  me  dat  Englishman,  M'sieu  Smit' 
Say  'Poleon,  w'at  for  you  took  my  tubbe  ? 

"  I^eff  'im  dere — for  I  don't  low  nobodee 
Walk  heem  off  on  any  such  way  lak  dat; 

You  may  tak'  all  de  res',  an'  I  don't  care  me — 
But  de  man  he  '11  be  keel  who  is  tak'  my 
bat'." 

"  I  will  carry  heem  wit'  me,"  say  M'sieu  Smit' — 

'  W'erever  dat  tubbe  she  mus'  go,  I  go — 
No  matter  de  many  place  we  visite, 

An*  my  sponge  I  will  tak'  mese'f  also." 

Phileas  say  "  Damase,  we  mus  bull'  some  raf 
Or  mebbe  some  feller  be  sure  get  drown  " ; 

Dis  geev  me  plaisir,  but  I  'm  scare  mak'  laf, 
So  I  '11  do  it  mese'f,  inside,  way  down. 


98  The  Habitant 

At  las'  we  are  start  on  voyage,  sure  nuff, 
M'sieu    Smit'    carry  tubbe  on  de  top  hees 
head, 

Good  job,  I  t'ink  so,  de  lac  is  n't  rough, 
Or  probably  dis  tarn,  we  're  all  come  dead. 

De  dog  go  wit'  Onesime  Gourdon, 
An'  Onesime  afferwar'  say  to  me, 

"  Dat  chien  boule  dog  is  eat  'Poleon 
Was  de  more  quiet  dog  I  never  see." 

But  fun  she  's  commence  on  very  nex'  day 
Wen  we  go  camp  out  on  de  Castor  Noir. 
Dat  Englishman  he  '11  come  along  an'  say 
I  hope  some  wil'  Injun  she  don't  be  dere. 

"  I  have  hear  many  tarn,  dat  de  wood  be  foule 
Of  Injun  w'at  tak'  off  de  hair  your  head. 

But  so  surely  my  name  she  's  Johnnie  Boule 
If  I  see  me  dem  feller  I  shoot  it  dead." 

Phileas  den  pray  harder,  more  quick  he  can 
Mebbe  he  's  t'ink  dat  's  hees  las'  portage 

De  moder  hees  fader,  she  's  Injun  man 
Derefore  an'  also,  he  is  wan  Sauvage. 

I  say  "  Don't  mak'  it  some  excitement; 

Saison  she  is  '  close  '  on  de  spring  an'  fall, 
An'  dem  peep  dat  work  on  de  Gouvernement 

Don't  lak  you  shoot  Injun  dis  mont'  at  all  ' 


M'sieu  Smit  99 

Nex'  day  M'sieu  Smit'  is  perform  hees  plonge 
We  see  heem  go  done  it — Phileas  an'  me, 

An'  w'en  he  's  hang  up  bat'  tubbe  an'  sponge 
We  go  on  de  wood  for  mak'  Chasse  perdrix. 

An'  mebbe  you  will  not  believe  to  me, 

But  w'en  we  come  back  on  de  camp  encore 

De  sponge  of  dat  Englishman  don't  be  see, 
An'  we  fin'  beeg  bear  she  's  go  dead  on  shore. 

Very  fonny  t'ing  how  he  's  loss  hees  life, 
But  Phileas  he  '11  know  hese'f  purty  quick, 

He  cut  M'sieu  Bear  wit'  hees  hunter  knife, 
An'  sponge  she  's  fall  out  on  de  bear  stum- 
mick. 

Day  affer  we  get  two  fox  houn'  from  Boss 
Dat   's  good   for  ketch  deer  on  de  fall  an' 
spring, 

Den  place  Englishman  w'ere  he  can't  get  los' 
An'  tole  heem  shoot  quicker  he  see  somet'ing. 

Wat  's  dat  leetle  deer  got  no  horn  at  all  ? 

She  '11  be  moder  small  wan  en  suite  bimeby, 
Don't  remember  mese'f  w'at  name  she  's  call, 

But  dat  's  de  kin'  start  w'en  de  dog  is  cry. 

We  see  heem  come  down  on  de  runaway 
De  dog  she  is  not  very  far  behin' 


ioo  The  Habitant 

An'  w'en  dey  pass  place  M'sieu  Smit'  is  stay 
We  expec'  he  will  shoot  or  make  noise  some 
kin' t 

But  he  's  not  shoot  at  all,  mon  cher  ami, 

So  we  go  an'  we  ax  "  Is  he  see  some  deer  ? " 

He  say  "  Dat  's  long  tarn  I  am  stay  on  tree 
But  I  don't  see  not'ing  she  's  pass  on  here." 

We  spik  heem  once  more,  "  He  don't  see  fox 

houn'  ?  " 

W'at  you  t'ink  he  is  say,  dat  Englishman  ? 
'  Yes,  I  see  dem  pass  quickly  upon  de  groun', 
Wan  beeg  yellow  dog,  an'  two  small  brown 
wan." 

He  's  feel  de  more  bad  I  don't  see  before 
W'en  he  know  dat  beeg  dog,  she  's  wan  small 
deer, 

An'  for  mak'  ev'ryt'ing  correc'  encore 

We  drink  I  am  sure  six  bouteilles  de  biere. 

Nex'  day — dat  's  Dimanche — he  is  spik  to  me, 

'  Damase,  you  mus'  feel  leetle  fatigue, 

You  may  slep'  wit'  Phileas  w'ile  I  go  an'  see 

I  can't  get  some  nice  quiet  tarn  to-day." 

So  for  keep  'way  skeeter,  an'  fly  also 

Bouteille  from  de  shelf  M'sieu  Smit'  he  tak', 


M'sieu  Smit  101 

Den  he  start  wit'  his  chien  boule  dog  an'  go 
For  nice  quiet  walk  on  shore  of  lac. 

We  don't  slep-'  half  hour  w'en  dere  's  beeg, 

beeg  yell, 

Lak  somet'ing  I  'm  sure  don't  hear  long  tarn, 
An'  we  see  wan  feller  we  cannot  tell. 

Till  he  spik  it,   "  Damase!    Phileas!!    dam 
dam ! ! ! 

Den  we  know  it  at  once  mon,  cher  ami, 

But  she  's  swell  up  hees  face — hees  neck  an' 
han' ! 

It  seem  all  de  skeeter  on  w'ole  contree 
Is  jump  on  de  head  of  dat  Englishman. 

Some  water  on  poor  M'sieu  Smit'  we  '11  t'row, 
An'    w'en    he  's    tranquille    fin'   out    ev'ry- 
t'ing; 

Pouteille  he  's  rub  on,  got  some  nice  sirop 
I  was  mak'  mese'f  on  de  wood  las'  spring. 

Dere  was  jus'  'noder  t'ing  he  seem  for  care 
An'  den  he  is  feel  it  more  satisfy, 

Dat  t'ing,  my  dear  frien',  was  for  keel  some 

bear, 
If  he  '11  do  dat  wan  tarn,  he  's  prepare  for  die. 


102  The  Habitant 

Phileas  say  he  know  w'ere  some  blue  berree 
Mak'  very  good  place  for  de  bear  have  forme 

So  we  start  nex'  day  on  morning  earlee, 

An'  M'sieu  Smit'  go  wit'  hees  elephan'  gun. 

Wan  woman  sauvage  she  is  come  be  dere, 
Mebbe  want  some  blue  berree  mak'  some  pie, 

Dat'  Englishman  shoot,  he  is  t'ink  she  's  bear, 
An'   de  woman  she  's  holler,  "  Mon   Dieu, 
I  'm  die  !" 

M'sieu  Smit'  he  don't  do  no  harm,  becos 
He  is  shake  hese'f  w'en  he  shoot  dat  squaw, 

But  scare  he  pay  hunder'  dollar  cos' 

For  keel  some  sauvage  on  de"  close  "  saison. 

T'ree  day  affer  dat,  we  start  out  on  lac 
For  ketch  on  de  water  wan  Cariboo, 

But  win'  she  blow  strong,  an'  we  can't  get  back 
Till  we  t'row  ourse'f  out  on  dat  canoe. 

We  t'ink  M'sieu  Smit'  he  is  sure  be  drown, 
Leetle  w'ile  we  can't  see  heem  again  no  more. 

An'  den  he  's  come  up  from  de  place  go  down 
An'  jomp  on  hees  bat'  tubbe  an'  try  go  shore. 

W'en  he  's  pass  on  de  bat',  he  say  "  Hooraw!  " 
An'  commence  right  away  for  mak'  some  sing; 


M'sieu  Smit  103 

I'  m  sure  you  can  hear  heem  ten-twelve  arpent 
'Bout  "  Brittanie,  she  alway  mus'  boss  some- 
t'ing." 

Dat  's  all  I  will  tole  you  jus'  now,  my  frien' ; 

I  s'pose  you  don't  know  de  more  fonny  case, 
But  if  Englishman  go  on  wood  again 

I  '11  have  more  storee  w'en  you  pass  my 
place. 


WHEN   ALBANI   SANG 

WAS  workin'  away  on  de  farm  dere,  wan 
morning  not  long  ago, 
Feexin'  de  fence  for  winter — 'cos  dat  's  w'ere 

we  got  de  snow! 
Wen  Jeremie  Plouffe,  ma  neighbor,  come  over 

an'  spik  wit'  me, 

"  Antoine,  you  will  come  on  de  city,  for  hear 
Ma-dam  All-ba-nee  ?  " 

"  Wat  you  mean  ? "  I  was  sayin'  right  off,  me, 

"  Some  woman  was  mak'  de  speech, 
Or  girl  on  de  Hooraw  Circus,  doin'  high  kick 

an'  screech  ?  " 
"  Non — non,"    he   is    spikin' — "  Excuse    me, 

dat  's  be  Ma-dam  All-ba-nee 
Was  leevin*  down  here  on  de  contree,  two  mile 

'noder  side  Chambly. 

"  She  's   jus'   comin'   over    from    Englan',   on 

steamboat  arrive  Kebeck, 
Singin'  on  Lunnon  an'  Paree,  an'  havin'  beeg 

tam,  I  expec', 

104 


When  Albani  Sang  105 

But  no  matter  de  moche  she  enjoy  it,  for  travel 

all  roun'de  worl', 
Somet'ing  on  de  heart  bring  her  back  here,  for 

she  was  de  Chambly  girl. 


•'  She  never  do  not'ing  but  singin'  an*  makin* 

de  beeg  grande  tour 
An'  travel  on  summer  an'  winter,  so  mus*  be 

de  firs'  class  for  sure! 
Ev'ryboddy  I  'm  t'inkin'  was  know  her,  an*  I 

also  hear  'noder  t'ing, 
She  's  frien'  on  La  Reine  Victoria  an'  show  her 

de  way  to  sing!  " 

"  Wall,"  I  say,  "  you  're  sure  she  is  Chambly, 
w'at  you  call  Ma-dam  All-ba-nee  ? 

Don't  know  me  dat  nam'  on  de  Canton — I 
hope  you  're  not  fool  wit'  me  ?  " 

An  he  say,  "  Lajeunesse,  dey  was  call  her,  be- 
fore she  is  come  mariee, 

But  she  's  takin'  de  nam'  of  her  husban — I 
s'pose  dat  's  de  only  way." 

"  C'est  bon,  mon  ami,"  I  was  say  me,      If  I 

get  t'roo  de  fence  nex'  day 
An'  she  don't  want  too  moche  on  de  monee. 

den  mebbe  I  see  her  play." 


106  The  Habitant 

So  I  finish  dat  job  on  to-morrow,  Jeremie  he 

was  helpin'  me  too, 
An'  I  say,  "  Len'  me  t'ree  dollar  quickly  for 

mak'  de  voyage  wit'  you." 


Correc' — so  we  're  startin'  nex'  morning,  an' 

arrive  Montreal  all  right, 
Buy  dollar  tiquette  on  de  bureau,  an*  pass  on 

de  hall  dat  night. 
Beeg  crowd,  wall !    I  bet  you  was  dere  too,  all 

dress  on  some  fancy  dress, 
De  lady,  I  don't  say  not'ing,  but  man  's  all 

w'ite  shirt  an'  no  ves'. 


Don't  matter,  w'en  ban'  dey  be  ready,  de  fore- 
man strek  out  wit'  hees  steek, 

An'  fiddle  an'  ev'ryt'ing  else  too,  begin  for 
play  up  de  musique. 

It  's  fonny  t'ing  too  dey  was  playm'  don't  lak 
it  mese'f  at  all, 

I  rader  be  lissen  some  jeeg,  me,  or  w'at  you 
call"  Afferde  ball." 


An'  I  'm  not  feelin'  very  surprise  den,  w'en  de 

crowd  holler  out,  "  Encore," 
For  mak'  all  dem  feller  commencin'  an'  try 

leetle  piece  some  more, 


When  Albani  Sang  107 

'T  was  better  wan'  too,  I  be  t'inkin',  but  slow 

lak  you  're  goin'  to  die, 
All  de  sam',  noboddy  say  not'ing,   dat  mean 

dey  was  satisfy. 

AfTer  dat  come  de  Grande  piano,  lak  we  got  on 

Chambly  Hotel, 
She   's  nice  lookin'   girl  was  play  dat,  so  of 

course  she  's  go  off  purty  well, 
Den  feller  he  's  ronne  out  an'  sing  some,  it  's 

all  about  very  fine  moon, 
Dat  shine  on  Canal,  ev'ry  night  too,  I  'm  sorry 

I  don't  know  de  tune. 


Nex'  t'ing  I  commence  get  excite,  me,  for  I 

don't  see  no  great  Ma-dam  yet, 
Too  bad  I  was  los  all  dat  monee,  an'  too  late 

for  de  raffle  tiquette! 
Wen  jus'  as  I  feel  very  sorry,  for  come  all  de 

way  from  Chambly, 
Jeremie  he  was  w'isper,  "  Tiens,  Tiens,  prenez 

garde,  she  's  comin'  Ma-dam  All-ba-nee!  " 

Ev'ryboddy  seem  glad  w'en  dey  see  her,  come 
walkin'  right  down  de  platform, 

An'  way  dey  mak'  noise  on  de  han'  den,  w'y! 
it  's  jus'  lak  de  beeg  tender  storm! 


The  Habitant 


I  '11  never  see  not'ing  lak  dat,  me,  no  matter 

I  travel  de  worl', 
An'  Ma-dam,  you  t'ink  it  was  scare  her  ?    Non 

she  laugh  lak  de  Chambly  girl  ! 


Dere  was  young  feller  comin'  behin'  her,  walk 

nice,  comme  un  Cavalier, 
An'  before  All-ba-nee  she  is  ready  an'  piano 

get  startin'  for  play, 
De  feller  commence  wit'   hees  singin',   more 

stronger  dan  all  de  res', 
I  t'ink  he  's  got  very  bad  manner,  know  not'ing 

at  all  politesse. 

Ma-dam,  I  s'pose  she  get  mad  den,  an'  before 

anyboddy  can  spik, 
She  settle  right  down  for  mak'  sing  too,  an' 

purty  soon  ketch  heem  up  quick, 
Den  she  's  kip  it  on  gainin'  an'  gainin',  till  de 

song  it  is  tout  finis, 
An'  w'en  she  is  beatin'  dat  feller,  Bagosh !  I  am 

proud  Chambly! 

I  'm  not  very  sorry  at  all,  me,  w'en  de  feller 

was  ronnin'  away, 
An'  man  he  's  come  out  wit'  de  piccolo,  an' 

start  heem  right  off  for  play, 


When  Albani  Sang          109 

For  it  's  kin'  de  musique  I  be  fancy,  Jeremie 

he  is  lak  it  also, 
An'  wan  de  bes'  t'ing  on  dat  ev'ning  is  man 

wit'  de  piccolo ! 


Den  mebbe  ten  minute  is  passin',  Ma-dam  she 

is  comin'  encore, 
Dis  tarn  all  alone  on  de  platform,  dat  feller 

don't  show  up  no  more, 
An'  w'en  she  start  off  on  de  singin'  Jeremie 

say,  "  Antoine,  dat  's  Frangais,' 
Dis  give   us  more  pleasure,    I  tole  you,   'cos 

w'y  ?     We  're  de  pure  Canayen! 

Dat  song  I  will  never  forget  me,  't  was  song  of 

de  leetle  bird, 
W'en  he  's  fly  from  it  's  nes*  on  de  tree  top, 

'fore  res'  of  de  worl'  get  stirred, 
Ma-dam  she  was  tole  us  about  it,  den  start  off 

so  quiet  an'  low, 
An'  sing  lak  de  bird  on  de  morning,  de  poor 

leetle  small  oiseau. 


I  'member  wan  tarn  I  be  sleepin'  jus'  onder 

some  beeg  pine  tree 
An  song  of  de  robin  wak'  me,  but  robin  he 

don't  see  me, 


i  io  The  Habitant 

Dere  's   not'ing  for  scarin'  dat  bird  dere,  he  's 

feel  all  alone  on  de  worl', 
Wall !  Ma-dam  she  mus'  lissen  lak  dat  too,  w'en 

she  was  de  Chambly  girl ! 


Cos  how  could  she  sing  dat  nice  chanson,  de 
sam'  as  de  bird  I  was  hear, 

Till  I  see  it  de  maple  an'  pine  tree  an'  Riche- 
lieu ronnin'  near, 

Again  I  'm  de  leetle  feller,  lak  young  colt  upon 
de  spring 

Dat  's  jus'  on  de  way  I  was  feel,  me,  w'en  Ma- 
dam All-ba-nee  is  sing! 

An'  affer  de  song  it  is  finish,  an'  crowd  is  mak' 

noise  wit'  its  han', 
I  s'pose  dey  be  t'inkin'  I  'm  crazy,  dat  mebbe 

I  don't  onderstan', 
Cos  I  'm  set  on  de  chair  very  quiet,  mese'f  an' 

poor  Jeremie, 
An'  I  see  dat  hees  eye  it  was  cry  too,  jus'  sam' 

way  it  go  wit'  me. 


Dere  's  rosebush  outside  on  our  garden,  ev'ry 

spring  it  has  got  new  nes', 
But  only  wan  bluebird  is  buil'  dere,  I  know  her 

from  all  de  res', 


When  Albani  Sang  1 1 1 

An'  no  matter  de  far  she  be  fly  in'  away  on  de 

winter  tarn, 
Back  to  her  own  leetle  rosebush  she  's  comin 

dere  jus'  de  sam'. 


We  're  not  de  beeg  place  on  our  Canton,  mebbe 

cole  on  de  winter,  too, 
But  de  heart  's  "  Canayen  "  on  our  body,  an' 

dat  's  warm  enough  for  true! 
An'    w'en   All-ba-nee   was   got    lonesome   for 

travel  all  roun'  de  worl' 
I  hope  she  '11  come  home,  lak  de  bluebird,  an' 

again  be  de  Chambly  girl! 


DE   CAMP    ON    DE    "CHEVAL   GRIS' 

YOU  'member  de  ole  log-camp.  Johnnie,  up 
on  de  Cheval  Gris, 
Were  we  work  so  hard  all  winter,  long  ago 

you  an'  me  ? 
Dere  was  fourteen  man  on  de  gang,  den,  all 

from  our  own  paroisse, 

An'    only  wan  lef   dem   feller   is   ourse'f  an' 
Pierre  Laframboise. 

But  Pierre  can't  see  on  de  eye,  Johnnie,  I  t'ink 

it  's  no  good  at  all ! 
An'  it  was  n't  for  not'ing,  you  're  gettin'  rheu- 

mateez  on  de  leg  las'  fall ! 
I  t'ink  it  's  no  use  waitin',  for  neider  can  come 

wit'  me, 
So  alone  I  mak'  leetle  visit  dat  camp  on  de 

Cheval  Gris. 

An'  if  only  you  see  it,  Johnnie,  an'  change  dere 

was  all  aroun", 
Ev'ryt'ing  gone  but  de  timber  an'  dat  is  all 

fallin'  down ; 

112 


Camp  on  de  "Cheval  Gris"     113 

No  sign  of  portage  by  de  reever  w'ere  man  dey 

was  place  canoe, 
W'y,  Johnnie,  I  'm  cry  lak  de  beb£,  an'  I  'm 

glad  you  don't  come,  mon  vieux! 


But  strange  t'ing's  happen  me  dere,  Johnnies 

mebbe  I  go  asleep, 
As  I  lissen  de  song  of  de  rapide,  as  pas'  de 

Longue  Soo  she  sweep, 
Ma  head  she  go  biz-z-z  lak  de  sawmeel,  I  don't 

know  w'at  's  wrong  wit'  me, 
But  firs'  t'ing  I  don't  know  not'ing,  an*  den 

w'at  you  t'ink  I  see  ? 

Yourse'f  an'  res'  of  de  boy,  Johnnie,  by  light 

of  de  coal  oil  lamp, 
An'  you   're  singin'    an'    tolin'    story,    sittin' 

aroun*  de  camp, 
We  hear  de  win'  on  de  chimley,  an'  we  know 

it  was  beeg,  beeg  storm, 
But  ole  box  stove  she  is  roarin',  an'  camp  's 

feelin'  nice  an'  warm. 


I  t'ink  you  're  on  boar'  of  de  raf,  Johnnie, 

near  head  of  Riviere  du  Loup, 
Wen  LeRoy  an'  young  Patsy  Kelly  get  drown 

comin'  down  de  Soo, 


ii4  The  Habitant 

Wall!  I  see  me  dem  very  same  feller,  jus'  lak 

you  see  me  to-day, 
PlayirT  dat  game  dey  call  checker,  de  game  dey 

was  play  alvvay! 

An'  Louis  Charette  asleep,  Johnnie,  wit'  hees 

back  up  agen  de  wall, 
Makin"  soche  noise  wit'   hees  nose,   dat  you 

t'ink  it  was  moose  on  de  fall, 
I  s'pose  he  's  de  mos'  fattes'  man  dere  'cept 

mebbe  Bateese  La  Rue, 
But  if  I  mak  fonne  on  poor  Louis,  I  know  he 

was  good  boy  too! 


Wat  you  do  over  dere  on  your  bunk,  Johnnie, 

lightin'  dem  allumettes, 
Are  you  shame  'cos  de  girl  she  write  you,  is 

dat  de  las'  wan  you  get  ? 
It  's  fonny  you  can't  do  widout  it  ev'ry  tarn 

you  was  goin'  bed, 
W'y  readin'  dat  letter  so  offen,  you  mus  have 

it  all  on  de  head ! 


Dat 's  de  very  sam'  letter,  Johnnie,  was  comin' 

t'ree  mont'  ago, 
I  t'ink  I  know  somet'ing  about  it,  'cos  I  fin'  it 

wan  day  on  de  snow. 


Camp  on  de  "Cheval  Gris"     115 

An'  I  see  on  de  foot  dat  letter,  Philomene  she 

is  do  lak  dis:  *  #  * 
I  'm  not  very  moche  on  de  school,  me,  but  I 

t'ink  dat  was  mean  de  kiss. 


Wall!  nobody  's  kickin'  de  row,  Johnnie,  an' 

if  allumettes*  fini, 
Put  Philomene  off  on  your  pocket,  an'   sing 

leetle  song  wit'  me; 
For  don't  matter  de  hard  you  be  workin'  tou- 

jours  you  're  un  bon  gargon, 
An'  nobody  sing  lak  our  Johnnie,  Kebeck  to 

de  Mattawa! 


An'  it  's  den  you  be  let  her  go,  Johnnie,  till 

roof  she  was  mos'  cave  in, 
An'  if  dere  's  firs'  prize  on  de  singin',  Bagosh! 

you  're  de  man  can  win! 
Affer  dat  come  fidelle  of  Joe  Pilon,  an'  he  's 

feller  can  make  it  play, 
So  we  're  clearin'  de  floor  right  off  den,  for 

have  leetle  small  danser. 


An'  w'en  dance  she  was  tout  finis,  Johnnie,  I 

go  de  sam'  bunk  wit'  you 
Were  we  sleep  lak  two  broder,  an'  dream  of 

de  girl  on  Riviere  du  Loup, 


ii 6  The  Habitant 

Very  nice  ontil  somebody  call  me,  it  soun'  lak 

de  boss  Pelang, 
"  Leve  toi,  Jeremie  ma  young  feller,  or  else 

you  '11  be  late  on  de  gang." 

An'  den  I  am  wak'  up,  Johnnie,  an'  w'ere  do 

you  t'ink  I  be  ? 
Dere  was  de  wood  an'  mountain,  dere  was  de 

Cheval  Gris, 
But  w'ere  is  de  boy  an*  musique  I  hear  only 

w'ile  ago  ? 
Gone  lak  de  flower  las'  summer,  gone  lak  de 

winter  snow ! 


An'  de  young  man  was  bring  me  up,  Johnnie, 

dat  's  son  of  ma  boy  Maxiine, 
Say,    "  Gran'fader,    w'at    is    de    matter,    you 

havin'  de  bad,  bad  dream  ? 
Come  look  on  your  face  on  de  well  dere,  it  's 

w'ite  lak  I  never  see, 
Mebbe  't  was  better  you  're  stayin',  an'  not 

go  along  wit'  me." 

An'  w'en  I  look  down  de  well,  Johnnie,  an'  see 

de  ole  feller  dere, 
I  say  on  mese'f  "  you  be  makin'  fou  Jeremie 

Chateauvert, 


Camp  on  de  "  Cheval  Gris"     117 

For  t'ink  you  're  gargon  agen.      Ha!  ha!  jus' 

'cos  you  are  close  de  eye, 
An'  only  commence  for  leevin'  w'en  you  're 

ready  almos'  for  die!  " 


Ah!  dat  's  how  de  young  day  pass,  Johnniej 

purty  moche  lak  de  t'ing  I  see, 
Sometam  dey  be  las'  leetle  longer,  sam'  as  wit' 

you  an'  me, 
But  no  matter  de  ole  we  're  leevin',  de  tam 

she  must  come  some  day, 
W'en  boss  on  de  place  above,  Johnnie,  he  's 

callin'  us  all  away. 

I   'm  glad  I  was  go  on  de  camp,  Johnnie,  I 

t'ink  it  will  do  me  good, 
Mebbe  it  's  las'  tam  too,  for  sure,  I  '11  never 

pass  on  de  wood, 
For  I  don't  expec'  moche  longer  ole  Jeremie 

will  be  lef, 
But  about  w'at  I  see  dat  day,  Johnnie,  tole 

nobody  but  yourse'f. 


DE   STOVE    PIPE    HOLE 

DAT  'S  very  cole  an'  stormy  night  on  Vil- 
lage St.  Mathieu, 
Wen  ev'ry  wan  he  's  go  couche,  an'  dog  was 

quiet,  too — 
Young  Dominique  is  start  heem  out  see  Em- 

meline  Gourdon, 

Was  leevin'  on  her  fader's  place,  Maxime  de 
Forgeron. 

Poor  Dominique  he  's  lak  dat  girl,  an'  love  her 
mos'  de  tam, 

An'  she  was  mak'  de  promise — sure — some  day 
she  be  his  famme, 

But  she  have  worse  ole  fader  dat  's  never  on  de 
worl', 

Was  swear  onless  he  's  riche  lak  diable,  no  fel- 
ler 's  get  hees  girl. 

He  's  mak'  it  plaintee  fuss  about  hees  daughter 

Emmeline, 
Dat 's  mebbe  nice  girl,  too,  but  den,  Mon  Dieu, 

she  's  not  de  queen ! 

118 


De  Stove  Pipe  Hole          119 

An'  w'en  de  young  man  's  come  aroun'  for 

spark  it  on  de  door, 
An'  hear  de  ole  man  swear  "  Bapteme!  "  he  's 

never  come  no  more. 


Voung  Dominique  he  's  sam'  de  res', — was  scare 

for  ole  Maxime, 
He  don't  lak  risk  hese'f  too  moche  for  chances 

seein'  heem, 
Dat  's  only  stormy  night  he  come,  so  dark  you 

cannot  see, 
An  dat  's  de  reason  w'y  also,  he  's  climb  de 

gallerie. 

De  girl  she  's  waitin'  dere  for  heem — don't 

care  about  de  rain, 
So  glad  for  see  young  Dominique  he  's  comin' 

back  again, 
Dey  bote  forget  de  ole  Maxime,  an'  mak  de 

embrasser 
An  affer  dey  was  finish  dat,  poor  Dominique  is 

say — 


"  Good-bye,  dear  Emmeline,  good-bye;  I  'm 

goin'  very  soon, 
For  you  I  got  no  better  chance,  dan  feller  on  de 

moon — 


120  The  Habitant 

It  's  all  de  fault  your  fader,  too,  dat  I  be  go 

away, 
He  's  got  no  use  for  me  at  all — I  see  dat  ev'ry 

day. 


He  's  never  meet  me  on  de  road  but  he  is  say 

'  Sapre !  ' 
An'  if  he  ketch  me  on  de  house  I  'm  scare  he  's 

killin'  me, 
So  I  mus'  lef  ole  St.   Mathieu,  for  work  on 

'noder  place, 
An'  till  I  mak  de  beeg  for-tune,  you  never  see 

ma  face." 


Den    Emmeline    say    "  Dominique,    ma    love 

you  '11  alway  be 
An'  if  you  kiss  me  two,  t'ree  tarn  I  '11  not  tole 

noboddy — 
But  prenez  garde   ma   fader,   please,    I    know 

he  's  gettin  ole — 
All  sam'  he  offen  walk  de  house  upon  de  stock- 

in'  sole. 


"  Good-bye,    good-bye,   cher   Dominique!      I 

know  you  will  be  true, 
I  don't  want  no  riche  feller  me,  ma  heart  she 

go  wit'  you," 


De  Stove  Pipe  Hole         121 

Dat  's  very  quick  he  's  kiss  her  den,  before  de 

fader  come, 
But   don't   get   too   moche    pleasurement — so 

'fraid  de  ole  Bonhomrne. 


Wall!  jus'  about  dey  're  half  way  t'roo  wit  al! 

dat  love  beez-nesse 
Emmeline  say,  "  Dominique,  w'at  for  you  're 

scare  lak  all  de  res  ? 
Don't  see  mese'f  moche  danger  now  de  ole  man 

come  aroun'," 
Wen  minute  affer  dat,  dere  's  noise,  lak'  house 

she's  fallin'  down. 


Den  Emmeline  she  holler  "  Fire!  will  no  wan 

come  for  me  ?  " 
An  Dominique  is  jomp  so  high,  near  bus'  de 

gallerie, — 
'*  Help!    help!    right    off,"    somebody   shout, 

"  I  'm  killin'  on  ma  place, 
It  's  all  de  fault  ma  daughter,   too,  dat  girl 

she  's  ma  disgrace." 


He  's  kip  it  up  long  tarn  lak  dat,  but  not  hard 

tellin'  now, 
W'at  's  all  de  noise  upon  de  house — who  's 

kick  heem  up  de  row  ? 


122  The  Habitant 

It  seem  Bonhomme  was  sneak  aroun'  upon  de 

stockin'  sole, 
An'  firs'  t'ing  den  de  ole  man  walk  right  t'roo 

de  stove  pipe  hole. 


Wen  Dominique  is  see  heem  dere,  wit'  wan 

leg  hang  below, 
An'  'noder  leg  straight  out  above,  he  's  glad 

for  ketch  heem  so — 
De  ole  man  can't  do  not'ing,  den,  but  swear 

and  ax  for  w'y 
Noboddy  tak'  heem  out  dat  hole  before  he  's 

comin'  die. 


Den  Dominique  he  spik  lak  dis,  "  Mon  cher 
M'sieur  Gourdon 

I  'm  not  riche  city  feller,  me,  I  'm  only  habi- 
tant, 

But  I  was  love  more  I  can  tole  your  daughter 
Emmeline, 

An'  if  I  marry  on  dat  girl,  Bagosh !  she  's  lak  de 
Queen. 

"  I  want  you  mak  de  promise  now,  before  it  's 

come  too  late, 
An'  I  mus'  tole  you  dis  also,  dere  's  not  moche 

tarn  for  wait. 


De  Stove  Pipe  Hole          123 

Your  foot  she  's  hangin"  down  so  low,  I  'm 

'fraid  she  ketch  de  cole. 
Wall !  if  you  give  me  Emmeline,  I  pull  you  out 

de  hole." 


Dat  mak'  de  ole  man  swear  more  hard  he  never 

swear  before, 
An'  wit'  de  foot  he  's  got  above,  he  's  kick  it 

on  de  floor, 
"  Non,   non,"    he   say   "  Sapre    tonnerre !    she 

never  marry  you, 
An'  if  you  don't  look  out  you  get  de  jail  on 

St.  Mathieu." 


"  Correc',"  young  Dominique  is  say,  "  mebbe 

de  jail  's  tight  place, 
But  you  got  wan  small  corner,  too,  I  see  it  on 

de  face, 
So  if  you  don't  lak  geev  de  girl  on  wan  poor 

habitant, 
Dat  's  be   mese'f,  I   say,  Bonsoir,  mon  cher 

M'sieur  Gourdon." 

"  Come  back,  come  back,"  Maxime  is  shout — 

I  promise  you  de  girl, 
I  never  see  no  wan  lak  you — no  never  on  de 

worl' ! 


124  The  Habitant 

It  's  not  de  nice  trick  you  was  play  on  man 

dat  's  gettin'  ole, 
But  do  jus'  w'at  you  lak,  so  long  you  pull  me 

out  de  hole." 


"  Hooraw!  Hooraw!"    Den  Dominique  i?  pull 

heem  out  tout  suite 
An'  Emmeline  she  's  helpin'  too  for  place  heem 

on  de  feet, 
An'  affer  dat  de  ole  man  's  tak'  de  young  peep 

down  de  stair, 
Were  he  is  go  couch£  right  off,  an'  dey  go  on 

parloir. 

Nex'  Sunday  morning  dey  was  call  by  M'sieur 
le  Cur£ 

Get  marry  soon,  an'  ole  Maxime  geev  Emme- 
line away; 

Den  affer  dat  dey  settle  down  lak  habitant  is 
do, 

An*  have  de  mos'  fine  familee  on  Village  St 
Mathieu. 


"  DE   SNOWBIRD" 

OLEETLE  bird  dat  's  come  to  us  w'en 
stormy  win'  she  's  blowin', 
An'  ev'ry  fiel'  an'  mountain  top  is  cover  wit* 

de  snow, 
How  far  from  home  you  're  flyin',  noboddy  's 

never  knowin' 

For  spen'  wit'  us  de  winter  tarn,  mon  cher 
petit  oiseau ! 

We  alway  know  you  're  comin',  w'en  we  hear 

de  firs'  beeg  storm, 
A  sweepin'  from  de  sky  above,  an'  screamin' 

as  she  go — 
Can  tell  you  're  safe  inside  it,  w'ere  you  're 

keepin'  nice  an'  warm, 

But  no  wan  's  never  see  you  dere,  mon  cher 
petit  oiseau! 

Was  it  'way  behin'  de  mountain,  dat  de  nort' 

win'  ketch  you  sleepin' 

Mebbe  on  your  leetle  nes'  too,  an'  before  de 
wing  she  grow, 

125 


i26  The  Habitant 

Lif  you  up  an'  bring  you  dat  way,  till  some 

morning  fin'  you  peepin' 
Out  of  new  nes'  on  de  snow  dreef,  mon  pauv* 
petit  oiseau ! 

All  de  wood  is  full  on  summer,  wit'  de  many 

bird  is  sing  dere, 
Dey  mus'  oflen  know  each  oder,  mebbe  mak' 

de  frien'  also, 
But  w'en  you  was  come  on  winter,  never  seein' 

wan  strange  wing  dere 

Was  it  mak'  you  feelin'  lonesome,  mon  pauv' 
petit  oiseau  ? 

Plaintee  bird  is  alway  hidin'  on  some  place  no 

wan  can  fin'  dem, 
But  ma  leetle  bird  of  winter,  dat  was  not  de 

way  you  go— 
For  de  chil'ren  on  de  roadside,  you  don't  seem 

to  care  for  min'  dem 

W'en  dey  pass  on  way  to  schoolhouse,  mon 
cher  petit  oiseau  ! 

No  wan  say  you  sing  lak  robin,  but  you  got  no 

tarn  for  singin' 

So  busy  it  was  keepin'  you  get  breakfas'  on 
de  snow, 


"De  Snowbird"  127 

But  de  small  note  you  was  geev  us,  w'en  it  join 

de  sleigh  bell  ringin' 

Mak'  de  true  Canadian  music,  mon  cher  petit 
oiseau ! 


O  de  long  an'  lonesome  winter,  if  you  're  never 

comin    near  us' 
If  we  miss  you  on  de  roadside,  an'  on  all  de 

place  below ! 
But  le  bon  Dieu  he  will  sen'  you  troo  de  storm 

again  for  cheer  us, 

W'en  we  mos'  was  need  you  here  too,  mor 
cher  petit  oiseau ! 


THE   HABITANT'S   JUBILEE    ODE 

1READ   on   de   paper  mos"   ev'ry   day,    all 
about  Jubilee 
An'  grande  procession  movin'  along,  an'  passin' 

across  de  sea, 
Dat  's  chil'ren  of  Queen  Victoriaw  comin'  from 

far  away 

For  tole  Madame  w'at  dey  t'ink  of  her,  an' 
wishin'  her  bonne  sant£. 

An'   if   any  wan  want  to  know  pourquoi  les 

Canayens  should  be  dere 
Wit'  res'  of  de  worl'  for  shout  "  Hooraw  "  an' 

t'row  hees  cap  on  de  air, 
Purty  quick  I  will  tole  heem  de  reason,  w'y  we 

feel  lak  de  oder  do, 
For  if  I  'm  only  poor  habitant,  I  'm  not  on  de 

sapre"  fou. 

Of  course  w'en  we  t'ink  it  de  firs'  go  off,  I 

know  very  strange  it  seem 
For  fader  of  us  dey  was  offen  die  for  flag  of 

L'Ancien  Regime. 


The  Habitant's  Jubilee  Ode     129 

From  day  w'en  de  voyageurs  come  out  all  de 

way  from  ole  St.  Malo, 
Flyin'  dat  flag  from  de  mas'  above,  an'  long 

affer  dat  also. 


De  English  fight  wit'  de  Frenchman  den  over 

de  whole  contree, 
Down  by  de  reever,  off  on  de  wood,  an'  out  on 

de  beeg,  beeg  sea, 
Killin',  an'  shootin',  an'  raisin'  row,  half  tarn 

dey  don't  know  w'at  for, 
W'en  it  's  jus'  as  easy  get  settle  down,  not 

makin'  de  crazy  war. 

Sometam'  dey  be  quiet  for  leetle  w'ile,  you 

t'ink  dey  don't  fight  no  more, 
An'  den  w'en  dey  're  feelin'  all  right  agen, 

Bang!  jus'  lak'  she  was  before. 
Very  offen  we   're  beatin'   dem   on  de  fight, 

sometam'  dey  can  beat  us,  too, 
But  no  feller  's  scare  on  de  'noder  man,  an' 

bote  got  enough  to  do. 

An*  all  de  long  year  she  be  go  lak'  dat,  we 

never  was  know  de  peace, 
Not'ing  but  war  from  de  wes'  contree  down  to 

de  St.  Maurice; 


130  The  Habitant 

Till  de  las'  fight  's  comin'  on  Canadaw,  an' 

brave  Generale  Montcalm 
Die  lak'  a  sojer  of  France  is  die,  on  Battle  of 

Abraham. 


Dat  's  finish  it  all,  an'  de  English  King  is  axin' 

us  stayin'  dere 
Were  we  have  sam'  right  as  de  'noder  peep 

comin'  from  Angleterre. 
Long  tarn'  for  our  moder  so  far  away  de  poor 

Canayens  is  cry, 
But  de  new  step-moder  she  's  good  an'  kin', 

an'  it  's  all  right  bimeby. 

If  de  moder  come  dead  w'en  you're  small  gar^on 

leavin'  you  dere  alone, 
Wit'  nobody  watchin'  for  fear  you  fall,  an  hurt 

youse'f  on  de  stone, 
An'  'noder  good  woman  she  tak'  your  han'  de 

sam'  your  own  moder  do, 
Is  it  right  you  don't  call  her  moder,  is  it  right 

you  don't  love  her  too  ? 

Ba  non,  an*  dat  was  de  way  we  feel,  w'en  de 

ole  Regime  's  no  more, 
An'    de    new    wan    come,    but    don't   change 

moche,  w'y  it  's  jus'  lak'  it  be  before, 


The  Habitant's  Jubilee  Ode     131 

Spikin'  Francais  lak'  we  alway  do,  an  'de  Eng- 

lish  dey  mak  no  fuss, 
An'  our  law  de  sam',  wall,  I  don't  know  me4 

't  was  better  mebbe  for  us. 


So   de   sam'    as  two  broder  we  settle  down, 

leevin'  dere  ban'  in  han', 
Knowin'    each    oder,    we   lak'    each   oder,  de 

French  an'  de  Englishman, 
For  it 's  curi's  t'ing  on  dis  worl',  I  'm  sure  you 

see  it  agen  an'  agen, 
Dat  often  de  mos'  worse  ennemi,  he  's  comin* 

de  bes',  bes'  frien'. 


So  we  're  kipin'  so  quiet  long  affer  dat,  w'en 

las'  of  de  fightin's  done, 
Dat  plaintee  is  say,  de  new  Canayens  forget 

how  to  shoot  de  gun; 
But  Yankee  man  's  smart,  all  de  worl'  know 

dat,  so  he  's  firs'  fin'  mistak'  wan  day 
W'en  he  's  try  cross  de  line,  fusil  on  hee's  han', 

near  place  dey  call  Chateaugay. 

Of  course  it  's  bad  t'ing  for  poor  Yankee  man, 

De  Salaberry  be  dere 
Wit'  habitant  farmer  from   down  below,    an 

two  bonder  Voltigeurs, 


132  The  Habitant 

Dem  feller  come  off  de  State,   I  s'pose,  was 

fightin'  so  hard  dey  can 
But  de  blue  coat  sojer  he  don't  get  kill,  is  de 

locky  Yankee  man ! 

Since  den  w'en  dey  're  comin  on  Canadaw,  we 

alway  be  treat  dem  well, 
For  dey   're  spennin'   de   monee   lak*   gentil- 

hommes,  an'  stay  on  de  bes'  hotel, 
Den"  Bienvenu,"  wewillspikdem,  an'  "  Come 

back  agen  nex'  week, 
So  long  you  was  kip  on  de  quiet  an'  don't  talk 

de  politique!  " 

Yass,    dat    is    de  way  Victoriaw   fin'    us   dis 

jubilee, 
Sometam'   we   mak'   fuss   about   not'ing,   but 

it  's  all  on  de  familee, 
An'    w'enever   dere  's    danger   roun'    her,    no 

matter  on  sea  or  Ian', 
She   '11  find  that  les  Canayens  can    fight   de 

sam'  as  bes'  Englishman. 

An'  onder  de  flag  of   Angleterre,  so  long  as 

dat  flag  was  fly — 
Wit'  deir  English  broder,  les  Canayens  is  satisfy 

leev  an'  die. 


The  Habitant's  Jubilee  Ode      133 

Dat  's  de  message  our  fader  geev  us  w'en  dey 

're  fallin'  on  Chateaugay, 
An'  de  flag  was  kipin'  dem  safe  den,  dat  's  de 

wan  we  will  kip  alway ! 


*» 


OLE  Docteur  Fiset  of  Saint  Anicet, 
Sapr6  tonnerre!  he  was  leev  long  tarn! 
I  'm  sure  he  's  got  ninety  year  or  so, 
Beat  all  on  de  Parish  'cept  Pierre  Courteau, 
An'  day  affer  day  he  work  all  de  sam'. 

Dat  house  on  de  hill,    you  can  see  it  still, 
She  's  sam'  place  he  bun"  de  firs'  tarn'  he 

come 

Behin'  it  dere  's  one  leetle  small  jardin 
Got  plaintee  de  bes'  tabac  Canayen 

Wit'  fameuse  apple  an'  beeg  blue  plum. 

An'  dey  're  all  right  dere,  for  de  small  boy's 
scare 

No  matter  de  apple  look  nice  an'  red, 
For  de  small  boy  know  if  he  's  stealin'  some 
Den  Docteur  Fiset  on  dark  night  he  come, 

An'  cut  leetle  feller  right  off  hees  head ! 

i34 


Ole  Docteur  Fiset  135 

But  w'en  dey  was  rap,  an'  tak'  off  de  cap, 

M'sieu'  le  Docteur  he  will  say  "  Entrez," 
Den  all  de  boy  pass  on  jardin  hehin' 
Were  dey  eat  mos'  ev'ryt'ing  good  dey  fin', 
Till  dey  can't  go  on  school  nearly  two,  t'ree 
day. 

But  Docteur  Fiset,  not  moche  fonne  he  get, 

Drivin'  all  over  de  whole  contree, 
If  de  road  she  's  bad,  if  de  road  she  's  good, 
W'en  ev'ryt'ing  's  drown    on  de    Spring-tam 

flood, 
An'  workin'  for  not'ing  half  tarn'  mebbe! 

Let  her  rain  or  snow,  all  he  want  to  know 

Is  jus'  if  anywan  's  feelin'  sick, 
For  Docteur  Fiset  's  de  ole  fashion  kin' 
Doin'  good  was  de  only  t'ing  on  hees  min' 

So  he  got  no  use  for  de  politique. 

An'  he  's  careful  too,  'cos  firs'  t'ing  he  do, 

For  fear  dere  was  danger  some  fever  case, 
Is  tak'  w'en  he  's  come  leetle  w'isky  chaud, 
Den  'noder  wan  too  jus'  before  he  go, 

He  's  so  scare  carry  fever  aroun'  de  place! 

On  nice  summer  day  w'en  we  're  makin'  hay 

Dere  's  not'ing  more  pleasant  for  us  I  'm  sure 
Dan  see  de  ole  man  come  joggin'  along, 


i36  The  Habitant 

Alway  singin'  some  leetle  song, 
An'  hear  heem  say  "  Tiens,  mes  amis,  Bon- 
jour!  " 

An'  w'en  de  cole  rain  was  commence  again 
An'  we  're  sittin'  at  home  on  some  warm 

cornerre, 

If  we  hear  de  buggy  an'  see  de  light 
Tearin'  along  t'roo  de  black,  black  night, 
We  know  right  off  dat  's  de  ole  Docteur! 

An'  he  's  smart  horse  sure,  w'at  he  call  "  Fau- 
bourg," 

Ev'ry  place  on  de  Parish  he  know  dem  all, 
An'  you  ought  to  see  de  nice  way  he  go 
For  fear  he  's  upsettin'  upon  de  snow, 

W'en  ole  man  's  asleep  on  de  cariole! 

I  'member  w'en  poor  Hormisdas  Couture 

Get  sick  on  hees  place  twenty  mile  away 
An'  hees  boy  Ovide  he  was  come  '*  Raquette  " 
W'at  you  call  "  Snowshoe,"  for  Docteur  Fiset, 
An9    Docteur  he   start  wit'   hees  horse  an' 
sleigh. 

All  de  night  before,  de  beeg  storm  she  roar, 

An'  mos'  of  de  day  it  's  de  sam'  also, 
De  drif  was  pilin'  up  ten  feet  high 
You  can't  see  not'ing  dis  side  de  sky, 
Not'ing  but  wan  avalanche  of  snow. 


Ole  Docteur  Fiset  137 

I  'm  hearin'  de  bell  w'en  I  go  on  de  well 

For  water  de  cattle  on  barn  close  by, 
But  I  only  ketch  sight  of  hees  cheval  blanc 
An'  hees  coonskin  coat  wit'  de  capuchon 
An'  de  storm  tak'  heem  off,  jus'  de  sam'  he 
fly. 

Mus'  be  le  Bon  Dieu  dat  is  help  him  t'roo, 
Ole   Docteur   Fiset   an'    hees   horse   "  Fau- 
bourg," 
'T  was   somet'ing  for  splain-me,  wall  I  don't 

care, 

But  somehow  or  'noder  he  's  gettin'  dere, 
An'  save  de  life  Hormisdas  Couture. 

But  it  's  sam'  alway,  lak'  dat  ev'ry  day, 

He  never  was  spare  hese'f  pour  nous  autres, 

He  don't  mak'  moche  monee,  Docteur  Fiset, 

An'  offen  de  only  t'ing  he  was  get 

Is  de  prayer  of  poor  man,  an'  wan  bag  of  oat. 


Wall !  Docteur  Fiset  of  Saint  Anicet 

He  is  not  dead  yet!  an'  I  'm  purty  sure 
If  you  're  passin'  dat  place  about  ten  year  more 
You  will  see  heem  go  roun'  lak'  he  go  before 
Wit'  de  ole  cariole  an'    hees   horse  "  Fau- 
bourg! " 


By  WILLIAM  HENRY  DRUMMOND 

Johnnie  Courteau 

And  Other  Poems 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  FREDERICK  SIMPSON  COBURN 
Popular  edition.     Crown  octavo,  gilt  top.     Illustrated.     (By 

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"  It  is  not  his  clever  manipulation  of  the  patois  alone  that  has  brought 
him  popularity.  He  knows  the  kindly,  simple  people  that  speak  it  to  the 
core  ;  he  is  master  of  a  telling  minor  touch  of  pathos,  he  has  humor,  and  a 
wide  sympathy  with  the  French  country  folk  of  the  Dominion.  He  has 
worthily  earned  a  place  in  the  literature  of  Canada.  He  has  the  human 
touch." — Mail  and  Express. 

Autograph    Edition,         "  Johnnie  Courteau  "    and  "  The 

Habitant." 

Limited  to  1000  numbered  sets.  Each  volume  contains 
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AND    MADELEINE    VERCHERES.      Two    Poems.      With   five 

photogravure  illustrations  by  Frederick  Simpson  Coburn. 

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"  In  '  Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe*  Dr.  Drummond  opens  up  the  founts  of  tears 
and  laughter,  and  touches  the  simpler  things  of  life,  so  as  to  stir  the 
depths  of  human  tenderness." — Montreal  Gazette. 

"  Breathes  throughout  the  odors,  and  pulses  with  the  life  of  the  primeval 
f»r^st." — Evening  Post,  Chicago. 

New  York—  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS— London 


By  WILLIAM  HENRY  DRUMMOND 

The  Voyageur 

And  Other  Poems 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  FREDERICK  S.  COBURN 

Uniform  with  the  earlier  works. 

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net  $2.50 

"  Dr.  Drummond  in  his  former  volumes  of  verse  has  interpreted  for  us 
the  simple  life  of  the  Canadian  folk.  In  the  present  volume  the  same  theme 
is  pursued,  but  there  is  endless  variety.  The  merit  of  the  book  in  the  last 
analysis  rests  in  the  sympathetic  and  wholesome  interpretation  of  the  trag- 
edies and  the  pleasures  of  tire  simple  lives  depicted.  The  volume  is  not 
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places  that  he  describes,  laughed  with  his  characters,  mourned  with  them, 
but,  above  all,  that  he  loved  them  and  took  a  virile  joy  in  their  lives  and  in 
making  them  his  companions. —  The  Outlook. 

The  Habitant 

And  Other  French-Canadian   Poems 

With  an  Introduction  by  the  French-Canadian  Poet-Laureate 

Louis  FRECHETTE 
ILLUSTRATED  BY  FREDERICK  SIMPSON  COBURN 

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"  Unconventional,  captivating." — New  York  Tribune 

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*'  There  is  nothing  to  equal  it  in  fun  making." — Boston  Globe. 

New  York—G,  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS— London 


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